Not A Word
by Nea's world
Summary: A creature comes to Mirkwood... A haunted and broken creature, who needs all the care that can be bestowed... At the same time, the royal siblings find themselves growing apart as they both find elves with whom they fall in love. Feel free to RR!
1. The end and the beginning

Alright, my previous disclaimer was deleted, so here it is again: I own nothing of Tolkien's! Anything therefore familiar, to those who have a clue what I'm talking about, isn't mine. Don't think it is. On to the story.

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Madan lifted his head and glared defiantly at the King, but said nothing. Such would have been a punishable offense, and he was not interested in loosing anything else today. His title, his property and his prestige had been wiped out in one instant by the King. He would leave with his pride.

King Thranduil mentally shook his head as he saw the elf's eyes darken in foolish pride. "For your treachery you are ordered to leave these woods immediately, upon penalty of death. The other realms will be informed of the cause for your exile. Do not expect a warm welcome from them. Though communications have been strained between the woods, they do not wish such plotters amongst them, any more than I wish them here." The King's face was lined with grief and stress, for this was the harshest punishment he could dole out without actually ordering someone killed. Still, the threat of that was there… and in times past had been enforced. "Have you anything to say for yourself?" The king asked Madan, half expecting some sort of speech about the injustice of the accusations, which would be ridiculous, considering all of the quite reliable evidence they had mounted against him.

Madan had a certain kind of intellect, and so he knew there was no way out, but he was not going to give the king the satisfaction of seeing him beg, plead or lie. He narrowed his eyes and willed his voice not to come out as a growl. "Not a word."

Thranduil sighed and shook his head, closing his eyes for an instant. "Take him away," he instructed the guard with a quick motion of his hand. The guard bowed his head shortly, another moving to take his place as two more appeared in the door to accompany him and the prisoner beyond the realm. A message runner had already been dispatched, and the riders would be well on their way to the respective realms, with notes of warning. Madan was without resources, and likely without anywhere to go except the Undying Lands… if they would have him. Of course, he could always go live with the humans, giving elves a bad name. Humans already seemed to think there was something odd about elves…

"There was nothing else to be done, Father," a soft voice behind him said reassuringly when Thranduil began to doubt his decision for a moment. Just for a moment.

Thranduil smiled and turned to his only son. "I know. It does not make it easier."

"No," Legolas agreed, seeing and sharing the deep weariness Thranduil felt. "Shall I dispatch them for you?"

"Thank you, son," Thranduil nodded his agreement, more than ready to wash his hands of the entire matter. "This business tires me."

"He was evil, Father," another voice murmured gently. The two males turned, both smiling slightly in their affection for the she-elf despite the events occurring around them.

"He is still evil, Leherim. But he will be away from Mirkwood." Away from the royal family he had plotted against.

"And all other elven realms of Middle-Earth, if he values his depraved life," Legolas added, his eyes narrowing in anger at the door the elf had entered and been escorted out of the hall through. After a moment he shook his golden head and bowed slightly, leaving to dispatch the group that would clean out the elf's rather ostentatious home, distributing the items to the poor elves and humans who had slaved for the wicked elf, helping them start anew.

Thranduil's eyes were shadowed as he looked after his son. "Some do not value such as highly as others," he whispered, before smiling slightly at his daughter, laying a hand on her shoulder as they walked to the hall. He sent silent thanks to Eru that he still had his dear children, and they had grown to value life as highly as he did, and that they had just as hard a time with punishments such as this one as any other elf would, their opinions not skewed by a life of luxury and the power that came with the titles they all wore.


	2. The creature

"Is it done?" Legolas asked the returning elves, having met them outside the entrance to the great hall. His bright eyes scanned them quickly, checking to be sure they had none of the house goods upon them. To bring such to the palace would be a very good way to make people say Thranduil was envious of the other elf's possessions, and that was the true reason he had been exiled. Only wood-elves or dwarves would think such a thing about the king… but in a realm of wood-elves, Legolas was taking no chances about idle rumors. He was a Prince, after all.

"In a manner of speaking, your highness," the one most forward into the hall answered. He was one of the guard, and so had a bit more power in the halls, gained by some familiarity with the prince during times of shared duty on patrols. "We have one matter we were uncertain about dealing with."

"What matter?" Legolas demanded with a frown.

The elf tugged on a chain he had wrapped about his palm, pulling a pathetically huddled being into Legolas's watchful gaze. "What are we to do with this?"

Legolas looked down at the dirty mess. He could see matted, muddy and bloody hair of uncertain color, skin of layered mud and ash, and tattered cloth that appeared to have been made from ripped and worn trade bags which wrapped the majority of the crouched figure in a haphazard manner that spoke ill of someone's skill with needle and thread. "What is…" he hesitated an instant, "it?"

The guard sighed and shook his head with a slight shrug that rattled the chain. The figure hunched a bit farther into itself, cowering away from the elf until the chain was almost straight. "Can't rightly say, your highness. Won't let us get close enough to do so. The chain and shackles were already upon the poor thing when we found it. It was locked in a small cell of sorts, solid stone, beneath the other rooms of the house. A sort of cellar, I suppose." He shook his head again. "It made the dungeons look like royal quarters, my lord."

Legolas frowned and looked at the chain in question, his already volatile anger rising farther in him as he saw it had been crafted by the elves, making his eyes darken as the dark rims grew in together, fine spokes of stormy color slashing through the bright blue. "A fine chain," he murmured, his eyes narrowing.

"I may know the smith," the guard agreed, his tone making clear what he would like to do to the creature's owner, if only given a few minutes and leave to do so. 

Shaking his head at the crazy world where elves hurt other creatures, Legolas crouched down to the cowering being. "Hello. What's your name?" he tried, keeping his voice as gentle as soft as possible.

Wide, light-colored eyes peered at him for a moment before hiding behind the hair, much like a small child who believes anything he couldn't see, couldn't see him. 

Legolas frowned and reached out, intending to move the hair out of the way so he would know if it was a human or an elf, or one of the wild men, full grown or a child… or maybe even just some odd creature—perhaps a mistake by the dark powers when they tried to create orcs. He never got the chance to know what it was, for as soon as he reached out the being recoiled, flinching away from his attempted touch, pulling the chain taunt, but not straining against it, as if certain the guard would not give in so much as an inch, and a painful reprisal would come for testing the chain's length. "I won't hurt you," Legolas promised softly, and tried once more after ducking down a bit lower in an attempt to appear non-threatening. 

The being shuddered and crouched lower, guarding its head with arms that had blackish streaks of mud and blood, the finger nails black, cracked and raggedly ripped where not dusted pale grey by ash.

At the obvious fear reaction Legolas sucked in a pained breath and stood so quickly he was dizzy. His stomach clenched as the creature at his feet quickly rolled away from him, as if believing Legolas was about to dole out a harsh kick. "What has he done?" he asked softly. "Madan," he growled, noticing the shudder that racked the creature every time he spoke. 

"What's going on, Legolas?" a female voice asked from just within the great hall.

"Don't—"

It was too late. Leherim saw the being and gasped, falling to her knees before the creature. "What happened to her?" she asked, staring at the being in distress he could almost touch. He certainly felt it, bringing warmth to the back of his eyes.

"Her?" Legolas and half the group echoed. He looked critically at the being, tilting his head slightly to the side. "How can you tell?"

"I'm a she-elf," Leherim snapped, not taking her eyes of the creature. "Take the chain off!"

"Beg pardon, my lady, but I don't know that that's a good idea. We considered that at first, but she, if she it be, is in a dreadful state, and would probably run if given the chance."

Leherim frowned at the guard's words, and then crawled closer to the possibly female creature. "Then at least have her taken to a room where she can clean up."

"Maybe then we could know her race," Legolas sighed in agreement, not bothering to add about the sex. He knew it was useless arguing with Leherim when she was like this, and there was really nothing else they could do. Nothing else that would be within the bounds for any decent beings—be they elves or not—at any rate.

"Yes," Leherim agreed, looking into the hair. "My name is Leherim," she murmured softly, in her best kind elf to injured animal voice.

Legolas smiled slightly to hear it, but sent his sister a quick warning in their minds of the frightened and defensive behavior the female had shown so far. To his surprise, as soon as his sister spoke, even before he could finish explaining, the creature stopped shaking. The head tilted slightly and the frightened grey eyes peered out again. 

"Come with me, please. I'll clean you up, and no one will hurt you." Leherim slowly stood, shaking her head at the chain. "Horrid chain," she hissed at it, taking it from the reluctant guard as if it were a poisonous snake, a look of repulsion on her face, curling her lip. She walked slowly, the being moving cautiously along in small, partial steps, using the roughened hands as a beast would to follow his sister, never letting the chain tighten though she stayed as far as allowed from everyone.

"Perhaps I should—" He got no farther than that, for the instant he began moving the being flinched and pressed closer to Leherim, brushing into the full skirt, though not touching her. Legolas frowned in distress, and backed away, feeling the being watching him carefully though he couldn't see her eyes. She watched everyone carefully. "I shall inform Father of our guest," he said, changing his mind. Silently he lifted his gaze to his sister's. 

_Do not take it to heart, Legolas._

_How can I not? _He replied to her words bitterly in his mind. _Shall I send Hallanya up?_

Leherim nodded with a faint sigh. _That would be a fine idea. Warn her in advance of the poor creature's wretched state, lest she behave inappropriately and frighten the poor girl farther. _

Legolas nodded. _As you wish, it shall be done. _He started to leave the hall, but paused for a moment, looking back at what of the creature he could see. Painfully thin, with skin stretched over bones and hair wrapped around and with the sackcloth in such a way he found it hard to imagine bathing had been a regular occurrence for several weeks, or even months. _Be careful, dear one._

_I shall, but I do not believe she intends—or would ever cause—anyone any harm._

Still studying the creature, Legolas recalled seeing a doe cornered by some wolves when he was younger. She had been breathing quickly, her fine velvet nostrils flaring to catch any hopeful scent on the wind, her eyes wide as she found only pain, and ultimately death. He had seen the light—the fire of life and freedom—in the doe's eyes go out. He had also seen the limp body of the wolf she had managed to kill before giving in to the inevitable. He had wished for months he had carried his bow at the time, though in truth he would have probably done nothing. Wolves had to eat, just as did any other creature.

Leherim, still connected to his mind, had seen the same memory, felt the same regrets. _A new situation may bring hope._

_Or despair. Keep your wits about you._

Leherim nodded and began walking once more, never needing to tug on the chained creature. She followed behind like a tame puppy. One who had been hit too many times. 

Legolas bowed his head, not understanding how any elf could do that to any creature that wasn't an orc. He quickly left the room, seeking out his father as he had told Leherim he would. Thranduil would not be happy about this, about this wretched being's pitiful state, though he would gladly give her a place as long as she was alive and the royal family remained in Mirkwood.

Leherim sighed softly and entered the guest room that she had chosen for its lack of finery. Less to be cleaned once she and Hallanya had finished with their guest for the evening. 

Closing her eyes, Leherim sought out Legolas, asking him to send a few things with Hallanya that they would need to get the poor thing cleaned. Then she moved over to the bath, the female following her though she had set the chain down once closing the door to the room. She shifted the metal bar which kept the water from flowing into the bath on one of the highest platforms, letting it race down the small, elf-crafted waterfall until it filled the basin. A hole at the far end would let the water trickle out, keeping the hot water flowing continuously. 

The being below her stared in fascination at the water as it cascaded down to fill the basin, which could be drained through another release mechanism, which would snap back into place to block the water when in use.

Leherim smiled. "It's from a hot spring, in the mountain." 

The being stared at her. 

Knowing she could well be imagining the quizzical look she thought she was getting, Leherim continued speaking, encouraged by the lack of a terrified response Legolas had mentioned observing every time when he had spoken. "The pipes bring the water to the rooms, and then we can choose where to turn it on. The closer to the bath we start the flow, the hotter the water. It shouldn't be too hot now, since I started it so high, but it will still be pleasantly warm for you." 

The being reached up and touched some of the water, putting her hand under one of the small drops where the water changed levels on its way to the bath. Then she tested another level higher up, and another, until she jerked her hand away from a higher one. 

"You can get in the bath anytime," Leherim murmured, but the being seemed to be ignoring her. The washed-out grey eyes flashed over everything, and then the hands, one nearly black and the other streaked with rivulets of dirt and deathly pale skin from her exploration of the water, began probing the walls. She stood up, partially crouched still, and put one foot on the edge of the basin. 

The door swung open and Hallanya bustled in, startling both of the bathroom's occupants. Leherim jumped against the wall, flattening her back to it, and the creature leapt away from the noise while turning to see what was coming, which resulted in a very large splash, two sopping wet she-elves standing frozen in shock, and one unconscious creature sliding into the basin of water which was already running nearly black for the filth she was covered with as matted hair half-floated and half-sank. 

Leherim caught her up as she began sinking into the water, and quickly checked the head injury with fingers used to such because of a hard-headed brother who insisted on being a guard, a messenger, and a tree-climbing elf who forgot he was only half wood-elf most of the time. The check was made difficult by the metal mass locked over the female's ears and the top of her head, before joining the metal collar which was linked to her shackled wrist by another length of chain. "She'll be fine soon," she murmured after a moment, relief flooding her and filling her voice. "So let us hurry with those shears," she instructed Hallanya, somewhat glad her new charge had lost consciousness. It would certainly make things easier.


	3. A she elf

Anyone would have thought him utterly relaxed, at peace as he gazed at the night stars from the small niche that had been carved into the wall of the hall, the vent going straight up through the mountain to the sky. Anyone except the one who found him, that is, and she was the one he was waiting for. He turned when he felt her watching him, his eyes asking a question he didn't have to form in words, mental or otherwise. 

"She is clean, and sleeping." Leherim shook her head and motioned down the hall with a slight inclination of her head. Legolas fell into step beside her, knowing she had more to tell him but that motion helped her feel she was doing something. With something as horrible as she had just seen, she had to do something or feel she was being an utter waste of space. "We could do nothing with her hair but cut it. It is horribly short, and not a very fine cut." That was hard to do when your client was unconscious and covered with layers of grime. "But she is clean," she reiterated, holding it up as a single saving point in the entire affair. 

Legolas smiled faintly, and ran his hand through her wet tresses in a silent tease.

"Yes, we looked like drowned rats when we were done." It had taken her an hour of bathing to feel clean once she had finished getting their guest cleaned up. 

"How is she?"

Leherim looked up at him with a frown he pretended not to see. She faced forward with a tired sigh. "She has bruises nearly all over her back, her arms, her legs. Scratches and cuts, marks from a whip and maybe even a blade and a brand. We tended to her, and most shall heal well in time. Her hands will take a while to heal completely. The nails were nearly ripped off, or had cracked down so far there was an infection…" Leherim shook her head and sighed again. "It's a wonder she's alive."

"Is she as malnourished as I believed?"

Leherim closed her eyes. A picture of the emaciated female drifted to the front of her mind. With a shudder she opened her eyes again, resolutely looking ahead. "Worse. I doubt she has eaten in weeks."

"An amazing feat, then, that she lives." He frowned and looked down at her questioningly. 

Leherim shook her head with a heavy sigh. "Not so, dear brother."

"What do you mean?" Thranduil asked, coming out of the library, which they had been walking towards, intending to include him in their discussion of their new guest. 

Leherim looked at the ground, her eyes absently tracing a pattern in the stone. "She is an elf."

The two male elves at her side stiffened, Legolas's hands clenching in anger as their father's face blanched and his breath hissed out. "Have you a guess for how old?" he asked after a moment.

Leherim shook her head sadly at him. "She is younger than you, older than a child. I cannot rightly say."

Legolas shook his head, his eyes closed. "Our age, you guess?"

"I would guess, yes, but knowing such trials can age a person, I would not venture it as an informed guess."

Legolas and Thranduil both reached out to Leherim, each laying a hand on one of her shoulders. Legolas slid closer to her, lowering his head the difference in their height so his forehead rested against her temple. Leherim sighed softly and lifted her hand to his neck, rubbing her thumb along his jaw. After a moment she dropped her hand and Legolas kissed her cheek as he straightened. 

_Thank you, _Leherim whispered in her mind.

_Anytime you need me, little sister, _he murmured back.

_I know, _she agreed. The caring touch of a loved one, no matter how small, was always so comforting to her. 

_What troubles you so?_

She shook her head almost imperceptibly at his soft question. Wasn't there enough? Madan was banished after plotting against them, and a she-elf was found cowering somewhere in his home, beaten more than half to death. What more did she need to be troubled? Knowing he would ask or watch her silently until he got an answer, she sighed softly. _I can't help but wonder if she has ever had anyone there for her as I have you two._

Legolas's eyes darkened as he looked over her shoulder at the hall they had walked through. _If she didn't, she would not have made it to be sheltered beneath your wings, little one._

Leherim nodded as she accepted the truth of his statement. _Yes, but it must have been a long time._

His eyes met hers again, and she saw the stark reality there which she had concluded while cleaning the she-elf's wounds. If she did not begin returning to life soon, the she-elf currently resting in their guest room would finish fading away. Neither one of the siblings had believed her an elf, because she no longer had the inner light, the strength and fire shining from her that was an inherent part of all elves. She was on the verge of death. 


	4. Mirimir

"How are you this morning?" Leherim asked gently, bringing the tray into the room with as little noise and fuss as she could manage. The guard locked the door behind her and went back to standing watch without a word. 

The she-elf looked up at her, blinked and looked away, but otherwise remained as she was, curled into a tight ball beneath the heavy wood table which stood against the far wall. 

"I brought some breakfast for us both. I hope you don't mind if I eat with you." Leherim spoke for the sake of speaking, since she never got any sort of response whatsoever, and sat on the bed, placing the tray beside her, picking up her plate as the she-elf warily approached from the corner beneath the table, walking crouched low on all fours. Every few moments she stopped to search the room rapidly, as if expecting things to have changed, or for some unknown assailant to appear from the stone.

Light grey eyes flickered to the plate, and then back to Leherim's face, and slowly the elf crept closer, until she was at the edge of the bed. Leherim waited as the she-elf with painful slowness climbed onto the bed, reaching her hand hesitantly out to the food before snatching it back the instant the long, nimble fingers had fastened on a piece of bread. Then the she-elf backed up, sat on her heels a few feet from the bed, chewing the bread thoughtfully, holding it so like a squirrel that under other circumstances Leherim would have laughed at the sight.

Things were definitely improving. The first meal Leherim had brought in had elicited nothing from the elf, even when Leherim had left. Five minutes later she returned to find the dishes precisely as she had left them. 

Breakfast the next morning had been just as grand a disaster. Nothing was touched. It didn't look like she had even bothered to climb onto the bed to take a look. After that, she left the tray on the floor, but still, everything was precisely as it had been when she left. Leherim had brought her worries to her brother after a few such horribly unaccepted meals. Legolas had frowned and looked towards the room as if he could see the she-elf through the halls and corridors that separated them with many thick feet of solid stone. "Perhaps you should eat with her," he suggested after a moment, his eyes pained.

That had worked, though it made an appalled Leherim angry and equally pained that the elf believed she would be poisoned in the palace, which she figured now was what had darkened Legolas's eyes, though he hadn't said anything about it. That the elf believed she would be poisoned was bad enough, but the palace was a haven for all… who didn't come as prisoners, that is. 

While the she-elf wasn't exactly a prisoner, she wasn't exactly a guest, either, since guests were generally left entirely on their own, and expected to eat in the great hall or make their own arrangements with the staff. Guests also tended to walk upright and speak.

But, all in all, eating with her had worked, for she would eat what was on the tray, though it had taken many troubling days for her to eat with Leherim in the room. Even then Leherim had been forced to set the plate in front of the she-elf on the floor and back away. 

After nearly ninety meals the she-elf would come to the foot of the bed for the food, but this morning was the first time she had actually reached for the food that was sitting beside Leherim. She had taken some at dinner the night before, but it had been pushed to the edge of the bed where she didn't have to get up onto the bed to get any food. As soon as she had some she had skittered back to her corner.

Yes, this was a definite improvement. 

"I brought another bunch of keys today," Leherim murmured at last, dusting off her hands. "Will you let me try some?"

Legolas had been searching the palace for keys, and had hounded the smiths for any designs they had ever crafted for restraints. Because of his single-minded devotion to the only contact the she-elf would allow him without causing her to start trembling, Leherim had a basketful of keys, and a very disturbed brother. Every time he came in to see how their charge was the she-elf would get to her corner if she could, and would huddle there until he left. If he came closer she would cover herself with her hands, or, if she was unable to do that, she would turn her head, her eyes going slightly glassy, as if she could force herself into a sleep-like state on command. And every time she cowered or shut herself away from the world, Legolas was hurt just a little bit more. 

Of course, had she said anything, he would have denied it.

But she didn't need to ask. She could see in his eyes that he wanted to do anything he could to help the poor elf, and hated every quiver, every shake that his mere presence or voice caused, sometimes even before he entered the room. 

As Leherim spoke, the elf crawled back up onto the bed to get a second piece of bread, but hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the plate, and chose differently instead.

"I wondered when you would be sick of bread," Leherim murmured with a slight smile. "If you do well with that, perhaps by supper I can get you some meat." 

The she-elf watched her for the longest time, chewing silently, seeming to savor the new flavor and texture.

"Can I try to get those shackles off?" Leherim asked, withdrawing the keys Legolas had said would be most likely to work of the newest ones he had bought her. 

At the sight of the keys, the she-elf slid backwards a bit, sitting down heavily with an utterly perplexed look on her face, but as soon as Leherim touched the chain the elf stayed perfectly still, letting Leherim try key after key in the shackle about the boney wrist. Finally one clicked, and slowly the device released the captive hand. 

Immediately the she-elf cradled the freed hand with her other one, rubbing at the skin which had worn red, soothing the cuts and welts as best she could.

"Can I try the other one now?" Leherim asked, slowly scooting forward. 

The she-elf tensed, but remained where she was, her legs drawn to her chest as she crouched, ready to flee if given reason. With excruciating slowness Leherim moved to her side and lifted her hand, watching as the darkening eyes flickered rapidly for every move, occasionally checking the rest of the room as if expecting other elves to come forth when she least expected it. 

Which was never. Leherim had yet to see a time when she wasn't like that, so over alert and poised to either flee, cower, or slip into the semi-sleep state that so pained Legolas. Knowing the she-elf never did that to escape Leherim didn't help him accept it in the least. 

The key slipped into the harness, and was trying to stick, but since it worked for the wrist shackle, Leherim wasn't going to give up easily. She turned harder, applying more strength than really made sense, and finally, the she-elves heard a soft click before they both exhaled. Leherim carefully removed the metal, seeing some hair she had been unable to trim, and some places that needed a good cleaning, not to mention medicinal care. 

The she-elf scooted slightly away at once, but was too occupied by running her freed hands through her hair, over her delicately tipped ears, and down her neck before returning to bother with getting off the bed. Leherim looked at the device as the she-elf checked her freedom. It was made so it not only went around her neck, but over the top of her head as well, hiding her ears. If it hadn't slipped slightly when the she-elf was knocked out, Leherim wouldn't have known she was an elf. 

The faintest smile crossed the she-elf's face for the birth of an instant, dying before Leherim could complete the transmission of it to Legolas. _She smiled._

_I'm glad one worked._

_How long those were on her I shudder to think. _

She felt his sympathy in her mind before he slipped out, turning his thoughts back to whatever their father had wanted him in the throne room for. Leherim picked the hated metal up and shook her head. "Legolas will have this destroyed by nightfall, no doubt," she muttered softly, holding it well away from her. 

The she-elf paused and tilted her head at Leherim, who took it as a question. 

"Legolas is my brother. The elf that sometimes comes in with me?" Leherim added. "He found the keys for you." And drove half the palace staff nuts doing it.

The she-elf frowned at the bedspread, her fingers idly tracing some of its lines. 

"You have time, don't worry. I'll be back at lunch, but first, I want to ask you something. Have you a name?" Leherim nibbled on the inside of her lower lip as she got absolutely no response. "I am Leherim." She murmured, touching her chest. "Who are you?"

The elf looked at her for a long moment, and then turned her head to the side disinterestedly. 

Leherim sighed and shook her head. "Then we shall have to give you one." She closed her eyes for an instant, pulling Legolas out of whatever he was trying to say.

Which irritated him, of course. _What!?!___

_She needs a name._

_Everyone does, sister dear. Couldn't this have waited?_

_I want her to have one now._

_And you couldn't think of one?_

_I thought you would like to have a chance to add in your opinion. You would hassle me terribly if I gave her a name without consulting you._

She could feel him chuckle. _True. He was silent for a moment, then she felt him smile faintly. __Mirimir__.___

_Mirimir__?___

_Why not?___

She blinked. Why not? _Mirimir__ it is, if she doesn't object. "I've spoken to Legolas, and he suggests Mirimir," she murmured._

The she-elf blinked in what Leherim took to be shock. 

She smiled. "Legolas and I were always close. We have been able to reach each other's mind quite easily since we were both considered far too young for such. Some think I was supposed to have been his twin. Others say since we were born only a few years apart we may as well have been twins." Leherim smiled again. "Will Mirimir do?"

The she-elf tilted her head, then looked down and took another piece of food from the plate.

_Well, no objections that I can see.___

In the throne room Legolas smiled faintly, absently aware his smile and absentmindedness were hardly appropriate. He was also aware everyone currently present knew of his connection with Leherim, and her tendency to pop in whenever she felt like it, with often the silliest little questions or comments. It was quite handy when he was on patrol and the palace received some information about a planned attack. She had once been able to reach him and the information had kept him out of a trap which would have been sprung had they attempted any other method of reaching him, but some times it was annoying. 

"What is it this time?" one of the advisors asked, a faint smile in his eyes as the others blinked and waited for Legolas's attention to return entirely to the discussion at hand. The discussion he had been leading until he blinked and frowned slightly, falling silent as his eyes stopped focusing on the room around him.

He smiled faintly, lowering his eyes. "The she-elf has just been bestowed the name Mirimir."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

And… no one's reading this. 

If someone is reading it, let me know. I know the beginning is slow, but if no one reviews soon, I will take this story off-line. 


	5. Price to pay

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Leherim combed through the dark hair, carefully clipping bits of it to help even things out. After a while she stepped back and surveyed her handiwork. "That's better," she decided, leading Mirimir over to the mirror to see what she had done.

Mirimir reached up and touched the silky cap of hair, tilting her head curiously, watching it slide across her face, the black slashes a rather startling contrast with her almost too fair skin. She blinked and absently tucked her hair behind her ears, scanning the room quickly before she returned to the bed, drawing her knees to her chest, gazing about the room.

Leherim sighed softly, and cast about for anything to say or do when a wave of something strong and with an overtone of grief came to her from Legolas, just as the door opened. Mirimir was off the bed and in the corner beneath the table in a flash, but Legolas seemed unaware of it this time as he strode quickly across the room to stop in front of her. "What's wrong?" she asked softly, reaching up to touch his cheek.

He sighed and rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. "Haragen's troops were attacked. Garenti…"

"Oh no," she whispered, feeling his grief increase. She reached up and hugged him, feeling his arms come around her as he accepted whatever comfort he could gather from the contact. "Has Hallanya been told?"

"I couldn't find her. He never made it back to the mountain." Legolas closed his eyes and shook his head slightly, kissing her forehead before drawing back a bit, though he still held her hands. "I should look again. She should find out in a better way than the grapevine."

"I'll go," she whispered, knowing how much Legolas was dreading this. He could lead the troops and command respect with but a glance, but he wasn't as adept in dealing with the obvious emotions of distraught females. She glanced back at the cowering Mirimir and sighed softly. "Perhaps you should come along for a while. Was anyone else injured?"

"A few, but all should recover within a few weeks. A few bruised ribs, a broken leg, some head wounds."

"Orcs?"

He shook his head briefly. "Spiders."

"Spiders?" she frowned, looking down. "But I thought they wouldn't attack us when we are in numbers."

"They usually will not. They fear the magic we have within us, but something drove these to do so anyway." His lips twisted in slight humor. "Most of the wounds came from falling out of trees in their haste to escape." His head twisted to see Mirimir when she let out a soft sound. She glanced up, saw he was watching her, and tried to curl herself into a still tighter ball, her arms wrapped protectively over her chest. _Does she speak anything?_

_I have not heard her do so. She does seem to understand, though._

_Which could be wishful thinking on your part._

_Yes,_ she agreed with a soft sigh. 

Legolas looked over at Mirimir, and crouched down beside Leherim, thankful for the light touch of her fingers on his shoulder. "My name is Legolas," he murmured. "Leherim is my baby sister."

"Oh, I like that!" Leherim shoved him lightly, causing him nearly to tip over. "Baby sister indeed! A mere few years younger than you, if you recall."

Legolas smiled fondly at her, reached out and knocked her over, catching her before she could crash to the floor. He set her down lightly, smirking. "My baby sister, unable to stay on her feet." 

A soft knock came from the door, and a guard timidly stuck his head into the room. "Your highness?" he asked softly.

Legolas and Leherim glanced at each other, each lifting a brow at the guard.

He flushed to the tips of his ears and cleared his throat. "The King wishes to speak with the Prince," he clarified, before ducking back into the hall. 

"That's me then," Legolas murmured, standing, hauling Leherim up with him. 

"Are you certain?" Leherim asked drolly. 

Legolas smiled faintly and shook his head, kissing her forehead. "I'd best go."

"Yes. I shall find Hallanya. I'll see you later, Mirimir," she called, preceding Legolas out of the room—which made the trembling elf in the corner shake harder.

Legolas sighed softly. Wondering briefly if he should even bother to promise her he wouldn't hurt her, he instead bowed his head slightly and then left the room, absently seeing a book lying on the dresser. _Did you mean to leave a book?_

_Oh… Oh well. Leave it._

Legolas absently nodded and continued down the hall to the small study Thranduil preferred to conference in when he could. Sure enough, the king was there, and waiting for his son. "Yes, Father?" he asked, closing the door behind him without waiting to be told.

"You have heard, of course."

"Of course," he agreed, sitting where bid by a small motion of his father's hand.

"Have you anything to report?"

"Nothing you do not already know. Such activity is rare. Spiders must be on the edge of starvation most of the time to even consider any elves not alone as prey." He sighed and shook his head, spreading his hands in a gesture of confusion. "I have no idea what would have caused this, and Haragen was a bit too disturbed to speak of it beyond succinct answers, at least at this time."

Thranduil sighed wearily, shaking his head as he lifted a hand to his brow. "We shall have to send a larger party to hunt these spiders. There have been enough animals in the woods these recent years to satisfy their hunger, especially this close to the edge."

Legolas's eyes flashed, and he locked his attention entirely on his father. "Father?" he asked.

Thranduil looked at his son, saw the determination in his bright eyes. Slowly he nodded with a faint smile that wavered between pride and resignation. "You may go. I will send the orders in the morning."

"Thank you, Father," Legolas murmured, bowing his head slightly as he rose to his feet. Almost at the door, he turned back, worry written plainly in his eyes. "Father?"

"Yes?"

"Don't forget to sleep," he murmured softly.

Thranduil smiled wearily, knowing soon enough Leherim would be reminding him to eat. "Which one of us is the parent here, son?"

Legolas smiled faintly, but it disappeared as he took in the signs of near exhaustion apparent in his father's bright eyes. "There is no question there, but you no longer have a wife to nag you to keep up your health. You do no one any favors when you neglect yourself for the kingdom."

"The kingdom that does not believe there is any neglect?"

Legolas sighed softly, lowering his eyes. He gave his father a half-hearted shrug. "Price to pay?" he asked quietly.

"It will not always be so," Thranduil reminded him quietly.

Legolas smiled. "And I look forward to that—perhaps too much, in truth." He frowned for an instant and then left, and began walking towards the dining halls for his missed meal when he felt a wave of emotion so intense he held a shaking hand out to the wall, trying to keep himself upright. Pain, horror, sadness, intense sorrow, confusion, hate, and other emotions too flittering or unnamable in the language he used buffeted him, blinding his eyes. 

Taking deep breaths he was able to slowly control the tumultuous flood, bringing him back to the present as he shoved the feelings down.

"My lord?" 

He blinked and looked up to see a guard and a young maid watching him with worry, confusion and a bit of fear in their eyes. 

"Are you well?" the guard asked cautiously, obviously having attempted several times to get a response from Legolas without success.

"I need to find Leherim," he stated briefly, his eyes zeroing in on the maid, having seen her working with other elves recently, including those who always knew where every other staff member was. "Where would Hallanya be at this time?"

"I-in her ch-chamber, m-my lord," she finally got out. "Ar-are you s-sure you're all right?" she asked after a quick pause.

He managed a tight smile to assuage their fears. "I will be when I know what troubles my sister," he stated, walking quickly down the hall, well aware of the stares behind him.

"You think it's true, then?" the maid asked. 

"I've seen him do that before, but never that bad. I think it's true," the guard affirmed. He said something else, but Legolas was racing down the stairs as quickly as his title would allow.

The closer he got to Hallanya's room, the stronger the emotions he received even though he was doing his best to block them. It was harder to block Leherim's emotions from entering his mind than it was to keep his from escaping him to trouble her.

Without pausing to knock he entered the room as the plain distress became the most prominent emotion blasting him. Hallanya wasn't crying as he'd expected. Her face was blank, devoid of emotion. Leherim wasn't so composed, tears running down her cheeks and over her fingers, as her hands were covering her mouth, muffling her occasional sobs. 

Understanding now that he wasn't consumed by reaching her, he sank down behind his trembling sister, wrapping his arms around her as she slowly turned to him, clinging to him as she cried. He kissed her crown and gave up on trying to control the emotions, letting them wash over him. He'd found through experience that doing that would sometimes help get rid of them more quickly. 

They faded only as Leherim's tears slowly stopped. When he was sure there wouldn't be a resurgence, he loosened his hold on his sister and found she was, as he had half expected, asleep. The riot of emotions would wear any elf down fairly quickly. He closed his eyes and released a sigh, before picking her up, carrying her through the halls towards the royal quarters. 

"Legolas?" 

Legolas turned to see his father with two of his advisors. "Yes, Father?"

"What has happened?" Thranduil asked, scanning his daughter's face, seeing the ravages of tears on her cheeks. 

"Hallanya did not take the news of her son well at all. Unless a healer can reach her where she wanders, another death shall be upon us. I have not had a chance to call—"

Thranduil motioned one of his advisors away, who quickly stalked down the hall in search of a healer. Thranduil sighed heavily. "I suspect you shall want your meals sent up tonight?"

Legolas smiled faintly. "If it's not too much trouble," he agreed. "Thank you," he murmured, bowing his head slightly as Thranduil returned the gesture, releasing him. He managed to get the door to their rooms open without too much trouble, and shouldered open the door that led to her bedroom. He was able to shift her after a few moments in such a way he could draw the bed sheets back, and laid her down, drawing her honey hair out from under her to splay across the pillow. 

When assured she wouldn't wake up annoyed with him for leaving her in an uncomfortable position, he went through the rooms to his own, setting out his hunting clothes for the next day. He drew one of his daggers, running his finger along the edge, testing the sharpness. Satisfied, he set it away and checked the other, absently rubbing away a marring spot on the blade. 

It was the kind of battle he was preparing for that he most enjoyed. A visible target, a purely evil adversary. No cause to think of aiming anywhere but to kill, no idea of mercy. Battling otherwise was troubling for him, because there was always a chance he would make an error in judgment that could be deadly—for others, or himself. 

He shook his head at the thoughts and went through his arrows, knowing he had checked them not a week past, but knowing he would be unable to convince himself to stop doing so until he had finished, anyway. 

He felt a slight stirring just as he put his bow down, so he got up and passed through his room, his sitting room, through the shared sitting room, through her sitting room, and to her room as she blinked and looked around.

"Monitoring me?" she asked softly, teasing softly.

"I kept an ear open," he agreed, referring to the sort of hearing that occurred when they just let themselves open to sense the other. 

She smiled slightly and then her eyes clouded. "Le—"

"A healer has been sent for," he interrupted.

She treated him to another smile, accepting his help to sit up on the edge of her bed. She sighed softly, resting her forehead against his shoulder. _Thank you, my brother,_ she whispered.

He tilted his head at her curiously. _For what?_

_For always being there for me, even when I try not to ask._

"That explains it, then," he murmured softly, absently combing through her hair with his fingers.

"Hmm?"

"I got it in a blast—so intense it took my sight away for a time." 

She winced and sent him an apologetic look. _Sorry. Were you doing something important?_

_No,_ he shook his head. _I had just left Father. He's sending our meals up, by the way._

She struggled to get up. When he started to hold her down she sent him a flash of anger which loosened his hold slightly for a moment. _I have to eat with Mirimir,_ she growled.

_Not tonight, dear one. I can take her the tray._

_She won't like that._

_I know,_ he agreed softly. _But you're not leaving these chambers until morning. Right?_

"You're worse than a nana, Legolas."

He grinned crookedly. _And you love me._

She sighed. _Why, I don't know._

He sent her a cheeky grin, kissed her cheek and got up. He turned back, feeling her hesitation. _What?_

_She won't be happy to see you… She'll probably be expecting me._

Legolas smiled at her worried eyes. _I know. I'll tell her what's happened, I promise._

_See that you do. This may set her back, you realize._

_I also realize she has gotten a little better._

_Not enough to be so smug, _she muttered in his head.

He smiled slightly and nodded, giving her a short burst of understanding as he left, trotting quickly to the kitchens.

_Legolas__?_

_Hmm?_ He murmured, pausing outside the kitchens.

_I promised her some meat tonight._

_Got it,_ he murmured, stepping into the kitchen before they could ask if he was all right. Somehow he never had managed to catch Leherim in such a way she seemed to lose herself for a time. That made it seem dreadfully unfair, but he enjoyed the link, for the most part. It was an amazing thing, which helped him stay close to his sister, who had always been his best friend. Because of the connection they had never really been able to fight as children, since when they were young they had even less control over the emotions part of it. Damned hard to hurt someone willingly when you felt it just as strongly as they did. That had also made them both a bit more sensitive to others—for which he got no small amount of ribbing from other males. 

It had gotten so bad that Thranduil had sent Leherim to Imladris for a few years so they would grow up a bit apart. He hadn't counted on the distances they could speak through. 

Legolas smiled slightly at the memory, and saw a dazzled smile returned to him by the she-elf in front of him. "I've come to pick up Mirimir's tray. Leherim promised some meat on it," he added.

She smiled and lowered her eyes, moving to pick up a tray off to the side. "Just a moment, my lord," she murmured softly, returning after a moment with some meat.

"Our thanks," he smiled once more and tried not to mentally roll his eyes at the look she bestowed on him as he balanced the tray in one hand, running up the stairs to the room Mirimir was in. _Well?_

_Well what?_

_You know you want to,_ he grinned. He motioned to the guard, who opened the door. He walked in silently, and saw her sitting on the bed with Leherim's book. She was absorbed by it, apparently. He smiled faintly, sending Leherim the mental image. With a faint sigh he set the tray down. By the time he looked up, she was in the corner beneath the table. His insides twisted, and he closed his eyes, trying not to send the pain through the open link.

_Too late,_ Leherim whispered.

He sighed softly. "I'm sorry for whatever happened to you. I can do nothing to change the past, but the future I can assure you of. You will not be harmed here, not by us, not as long as my family rules these woods." He bowed his head to her, closing his eyes in a display meant to assure her he didn't fear her or intend to corner her, before heading back to the door before he got a mental nudge. _Oops,_ he murmured.

_Ha, ha._

"Hallanya, Garenti's mother, did not take the news well. She went into a fading state with Leherim in the room. It was a bit traumatic for her, and she is to remain in our chambers for the rest of the night. She will return by breakfast." He looked up slightly. _Was that all?_

_Tell her to sleep well._

He smiled slightly, giving the she-elf the kindest glance he could muster. "She says to sleep well." He fancied he saw a slightly surprised, speculative look on her face, but she tilted her head, her short dark hair sliding to block her eyes. "You let her cut your hair," he murmured softly. "It looks nice," he added, before leaving. 

He missed the shocked blink of light grey eyes. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Well, seven people want me to keep on going… so I will. Of course, if I post several chapters after this with no comments, I'll begin to wonder…

In all seriousness, thanks for letting me know you're reading—I hate the idea that I'm just taking up space with worthless words no one cares to read, so knowing anyone is reading keeps me writing!

Nea.


	6. Picture books and spider hunts

Wow. Lots of reviews for last chapter.

Guess I'd better try to respond, at least a bit.

To Lyn: Thank you for pointing out proceeding verses preceding and loose verses lose. Honestly, I know the difference, it's just when editing my own things I don't always catch them. I have changed those… but I left stalking in. Reason why: When I hear someone stalked down a hall, it brings these to mind: striding, purposeful, quick, agile, perhaps even angry. If you can come up with something else that brings such words to mind, I'll consider changing it. Of course, I asked a friend from Wisconsin about it and she thought like you did. Maybe it's a regional thing—everyone I've asked who grew up around where I live have the same ideas about it that I do.

To liz122474: Mirimir's story will definitely take some telling… But I don't really know the spider part. In my mind they're just rabid spiders. They're kind of orcishly stupid—they may have attacked because they felt like it.

To gaya gwath: Very good! I had this chapter in mind already when I posted the last, but you're the only one who mentioned she probably couldn't read.

To Silent Lurker: I'm taking about a week to post new chapters because I have three other stories being posted currently, several more that I'm writing which will not be posted, on top of lab reports, exams, mid-terms, papers, and being ill for most of last week. Things will probably not speed up… and will in fact cease entirely during Christmas vacation, as I have no internet access then save for a few minutes between visits with family I hardly ever see (It is not likely that I will therefore forgo time with my family to check e-mail and upload anything. Sorry.). 

And to Ithilien: It's nice to know you like my version of Legolas, and thank you for saying you like his link with Leherim. When I started this fic, I wondered how people would take to that little bit. I considered the idea of him being a warrior, and have tried balancing that with a more 'sensitive side' when he's around his family. So far it seems to be working nicely.

To everyone else who reviewed and like it/ want more, thanks for letting me know you exist, and hope you enjoy! 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Legolas took a deep breath to collect his thoughts as he opened the door. Mirimir's eyes narrowed on him, but she stayed on the bed, her arms crossing defensively for a moment, before they instead shifted to her sides to aide in fast flight, if needed. 

The books Leherim had brought her were discarded carelessly, in much less time than would have been required to read so much as one. He had an idea as to why, and it was why he was here. "I brought you something," he murmured softly, seeing a shiver go over her when he spoke.

When he approached she was off the bed and under the table within a step. He closed his eyes and sat down with his back to the bed, facing her. He held up the book, and opened it to a page at random. As he held it, he watched her eyes slowly move to it, then watched as her head tilted and she studied the picture, her eyes drinking in the sight like she was starved for it. He turned to another page at random, letting her see that one as well. Then he closed the book and slid it towards her. 

With her eyes flickering to his every few instants she eased one hand closer until she had the book, and withdrew it quickly, clutching the thin book to her chest, unwilling to look away from him very long. 

He sighed softly. "Enjoy, little one," he murmured absently, getting to his feet. "I've not told Leherim, so she may continue to bring you those books," he nodded his head at the books on the bed, "but I'll bring you more later. Rather later, actually," he admitted with a frown. "The first hunt for the spiders that attacked Haragen's troops was entirely without success, so we're going out again in the evening. We'll be gone for a minimum of a week, so you won't have to worry about anyone other than Leherim entering until then."

As he left he saw Leherim coming down the hall already. _Rather early, aren't you?_

_I'd rather not be there when you leave,_ she answered softly, her eyes dark. 

He touched her cheek lightly before tucking her hair behind her ears. _I should prepare._

_You should be careful._

_As if that's necessary,_ he scoffed quietly.

Leherim's eyes flashed in the soft light of the hall. _Legolas! Just because—_

_Just because they were probably all ordered the day I joined to be sure nothing happened to me?_ He suggested it quietly. _I may be working my way up to having my own troop, but that doesn't mean they're any less aware that I'm the prince._

She sighed and shook her head slightly. _Despite how much it irritates you, I rather like it._

He smiled faintly. _I know. And I can truly understand that. I just wish there was a way for you two to trust I can take care of myself enough it's not necessary._

_I do believe you can,_ she protested. _I just would rather not have to worry more than everyone else._

_More?_

_Yes, more. Don't pretend you don't know what I mean._

He sighed softly and rested his forehead against her temple, one hand on her shoulder. _I know,_ he agreed after a moment. He kissed her crown before walking swiftly down the halls to their rooms. 

Leherim sighed and shook her head. Slowly she pushed the door open to see Mirimir crouched on the floor, under the table, with a book unlike the ones she'd been bringing. _Legolas?_

_Hmm?_

_You brought her a children's book?_

_Mm-hmm.__ Lots of pictures._

_Pictures?_ She thought softly, before she recalled that there had indeed been pictures in the book she had left behind a week or so ago. Not many, but enough. She could feel him hesitate, and suddenly understood. _I'll leave her books to you, then._

She could sense a smile which wasn't present in his mental voice. _Very well._

She set the tray down on the bed, and Mirimir was soon sitting near her, eating with one hand as she stared at the pictures. She laid the book down on the spread, traced her fingers over some of the designs.

Leherim winced to see her nails. Still in horrible shape despite the length of time she had been trying to get them healed up, Leherim cleaned them with a salve from the healers every morning. They were beginning to grow, again, but so slowly. Her hair was growing a bit faster, and looked much better. It was almost all to her chin now, instead of some pieces there and others falling at her ears, and waved just faintly so it curved under or stuck out slightly when she tucked it behind her delicately pointed ears. 

As the she-elf ate, Leherim nibbled, keeping the line to Legolas open as she felt him head down to the halls. The group soon left, the gate clicking shut between them with a rather ominous crash. Leherim bit her lip and looked at her hands, but knew better than to contact him for anything at such a time. A loss of concentration now could cost him his life. 

A feathery touch on her hand brought her back to the room. "Hmm?" she murmured, blinking and looking around. "Oh," she added, seeing questioning grey eyes watching her. "Legolas is on his way out with the others. Hunting spiders," she added with a spiteful twist. She shuddered. "I hate spiders." She drew her knees to her chest and rested her chin on one. "Especially when they endanger someone I love." She could see what he was seeing right now, his way of assuring her they were fine, but he would soon drop that and focus entirely on the business at hand. "That stupid lug-head brother of mine," she muttered as the picture faded away. She opened her eyes, glaring at a spot on the wall beyond Mirimir. "He insists on being a member of the guard though he has no call to be, and even though he knows he's a target wherever he goes simply because he's the Prince. It's not that I don't think he can take care of himself—he'll have worked his way up to leading his own troop soon, and will eventually be a head captain… I just worry about him."

Grey eyes frowned at her, speculation gleaming in the washed out depths. 

"I know it's silly," Leherim murmured. She closed her eyes and tried to judge how far they had gotten. "But at the same time, it's not. We've been so close for nearly as long as I can remember that we can feel when the other is hurt. I have to suffer with him, physically as well as emotionally, when he's injured on these damned hunts. He took a poisoned arrow to the shoulder once and I couldn't use my left arm for nearly two days without intense pain. It was much worse for him, of course. It just took him that long to remain conscious and gain enough strength to sever the connection entirely so I didn't feel it."

She was aware of being watched from time to time, but said nothing else, letting her whole body be open to what was happening. Soon her definite knowledge faded, and she was left for three days feeling only when the troops had stopped long enough in such a way Legolas felt comfortable sending her a reassurance. 

The day before the troop was to return home nothing eventful had happened yet, which meant they would be there longer, unless they needed supplies. Even then, except for arrows, they wouldn't return to the palace, getting what they needed from the village instead. So she was left not knowing how much longer she would be stuck wanting him safely home.

A blast of shock and horror crashed through her as she ate with Mirimir, making her shake, and then… nothing. Nothing more came through.

"Nothing?" she whispered softly, beginning to tremble in earnest. "Legolas?" _LEGOLAS!_

Silence.

"Nothing," she breathed. "Valar," she whispered, trying to hold onto the hope he was doing this on purpose, or was just unconscious. That could sometimes do this sort of thing. She tucked her knees closer to herself and began rocking slowly as the time limped by. 

Suddenly a blast of some unrecognizable emotion came at her from the hall. "Legolas!" she cried, jumping up from the bed. She raced through the door, not closing it behind her for once, in too much of a hurry to think of anything—or anyone—else. 

Legolas was running towards her as well, and caught her in his arms when she threw hers around his neck. "Shh, dear one, I'm all right. I'm all right." He rocked her gently, holding her tightly as she slowly got a hold on her emotions. "I'm—ow!"

He scowled down at her, and she hit him again. "You orc!" she cried, thumping his chest with both fists in frustration. "How could you do that to me?"

He caught her fists and drew her slightly closer to the wall, away from the others moving in the halls. He kept his voice purposely calm and quiet, trying to calm her down. "I had to shut it off. I couldn't have what we were both feeling swamping me. Not then," he shook his head, his eyes darkening slightly. 

She sighed and rested her forehead against his shoulder. "Why'd I have to be connected to my troll-brained brother, of all people? Why not some handsome, kind and loving elven warrior?"

Legolas chuckled softly and released her fists. "Sorry, little one. You're stuck with me, it seems."

She sighed once more, and then backed up to give him a once over. "Uninjured?"

"Completely… until I caught up with you," he finished dryly. 

"Very funny," she bared her teeth at him. 

He laughed lightly and leaned against the wall, waiting for her to ask. "Well?"

She smiled and closed her eyes, relieved to have him back. "How did it go?"

"We found and killed them all… Well, the group that was near the place Haragen's troop usually patrols." A slight movement caught his eye and he turned his head a fraction to see the person, to decide if he wanted to acknowledge having seen them or not. His eyes widened slightly and a brow arched. _Someone appears to have followed you, dear sister._

_What?_ She turned her head where he indicated. "Mirimir," she murmured softly. The she-elf crouched closer to the floor and began backing towards the room. "No, it's all right. You're welcome to be out here as well, you know."

Mirimir glanced up but continued into her room on all fours. 

_She is a bit better,_ Legolas murmured, trying to boost her spirits at seeing the display.

_A bit,_ Leherim agreed, shaking her head. Not enough to assure her she would ever recover fully, though. _What of the guards? Why are they gone?_

_It was felt they could be put to better use elsewhere._

_Are you sure that's wise?_

_No,_ he answered softly, his eyes solemn. _But what can I do? Ask Father to return them?_

Leherim frowned and shook her head. _No, that won't work. He can't do that if it was an agreement he made with someone to move them, and they wouldn't have been moved, otherwise, not without discussing it with us._

Legolas nodded, having worked that out a while before—when their father had mentioned the guards would be taken away. _Without due cause, they will not be returned._

Leherim sighed softly and nodded, resting her head against her brother's shoulder. _Welcome home,_ she whispered softly. 

He felt her hesitant question, though she refrained from asking. _As far as I know, I'll be here a while._

_Good_. She leaned up and kissed his cheek before turning to the room. _Grab some lunch for us?_

_You're hungry already? You were probably eating breakfast—_

_I was picking at my breakfast, yes._

He sighed softly and nodded his head. _Very well._

_Bring enough for you, as well._

He frowned at her.

She smiled slightly, feeling his concerns. _She shall come to accept you._

_Perhaps I should sit by the door, though._

_But that's unnatural._

_Unnatural?_

_We always sit together. She'll get used to you in time._

_And in the meantime she may starve._

She shook her head. _No. I'll leave food if she won't eat with you beside me. Just make sure you put yourself near the foot of the bed, so I'll be between you two._

_You think that will be enough?_

_Probably not this time, but eventually, yes._

He sighed softly and bowed his head slightly. _As you wish._

_Thank you. We'd best speak aloud, though._

_Very well._ He walked to the kitchen as Leherim made her way to Mirimir's room.

She glanced around, found Mirimir on the bed with the picture book Legolas had brought her a week ago. _You may wish to bring another book._

A grin came through. _Already have one, dear one._

She smiled slightly and sat in the middle of the bed. "Legolas, as you saw, is fine. I convinced him to eat with us, so he'll be here with our food soon. He'll be home for a while," she stated happily with a grin. 

Mirimir stiffened at the words, but the door was already opening as she was visibly trying to decide whether to stay or go to her place beneath the table. 

Legolas came in with the tray, and set it down before Leherim, sitting at the edge of the bed facing his sister, as far from Mirimir as the bed allowed. "They already had it prepared for you," he murmured, taking a plate off the tray. "Oh," he murmured, reaching behind himself. He drew a large, thin book from under his tunic. "I thought you might like this one, Mirimir," he murmured, handing it to Leherim. 

She smiled as she recognized it, laying her palm over the cover. "The most beautiful places of Imladris, created by a brilliant artist. I remember this. Almost as glorious as the real thing."

"Almost," Legolas agreed, eating ravenously.

"You hadn't already stopped for food?" Leherim asked after passing the book to Mirimir, who drew it behind herself, stuffing it under a pillow.

"With you half-sure I was dead? I think not," he sniffed in fake offense and finished his allotted meal. He looked at Leherim pleadingly. 

She rolled her eyes and passed over part of her food. "Very well."

They both stilled as a hand reached over and snapped a plate off the tray before scooting back to the very far end of the bed. Mirimir looked at Legolas without trust as she guarded her food. 

He smiled faintly. "I wouldn't have eaten yours… well, I would have brought replacement if I had." He took in those defiant washed out eyes and then let his gaze wander, taking in the dark hair, now one length, the nails beginning to grow, the limbs without bruises and with slowly fading scars. "Looks like Leherim is taking good care of you. It shouldn't be too much longer before your fingers no longer hurt."

He caught a flash of something in the eyes, before she tilted her head, letting some of her hair fall to hide whatever it was.

Leherim cleared her throat softly. "Are you finished with my meal?" she asked softly, looking at the rest.

"Yes," he agreed, passing over what he hadn't eaten. She ate it as he studied the room. "It's rather dreary in here, isn't it?"

"Well, I thought to move her when I first brought her here, but she seems comfortable enough. Maybe later."

"In the meantime, though, you could make it more livable. A wardrobe to hold her dresses, for example." He glanced around. "Maybe a small shelf to hold things."

"What things?"

"Books?" He tilted his head at the book he'd recently brought. "Have you taken her to the garden yet?"

Mirimir began trembling and shivered deeper into a ball at the suggestion.

"Or perhaps you should bring her some plants. Anything to make this place more befitting an elf… One who is a guest in a palace, after all." He frowned at Leherim, silently reprimanding her for not thinking of that.

She looked around the room and saw what he meant. While undoubtedly beautiful compared to what Mirimir had known, there was nothing there, really, to remind her she was an elf. "I believe you are right. We shall have to work on that."

"Yes. But for now, I should be reporting to Father, so I'd best go."

"Oh… yes," Leherim winced. "Sorry. I didn't even think about that."

"He'll understand, little one," he murmured, kissing her crown as he rose. "Hope you enjoy the book, Mirimir," he called, before moving quickly from the room.

"I hope he doesn't get in trouble for that. He usually reports right to Father after something like this. Father likes to know he's well, and he wants to hear it from him." She shook her head slightly and turned to see Mirimir begin eating her lunch, one hand running lightly over the picture on the cover of the book Legolas had brought her.


	7. Big brothers rub off on little sisters

Five people wanted it, so here it is: The next chapter! (Round of approving noises from the imaginary crowd in the goofy author's mind—I swear, getting through midterms in one piece does something funny to my mind when I can finally let it all go. Ask anyone who knows me, if this author's note isn't enough to make that obvious.) Enjoy! Or not. Up to you. (Told you.)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Are you sure about this?_ Leherim asked softly.

_No. But I think we should have done something like this before._

_Perhaps,_ Leherim agreed with a frown. _But what if she doesn't like it?_

_Then you will find her in the other room, won't you?_

_Very funny._ She sighed and lifted a hand to her head.

Legolas smiled and lightly touched her shoulder. "I think it will be fine. She'll have something to do, after all, and it's more like what she would have had if she was here under different circumstances." 

"Which I wish she could have had."

He nodded in sympathy. "Yes."

Together they went to the room Mirimir was in. She looked up from the bed, lowering her chin slightly when she saw Legolas behind Leherim, though she remained where she was. Leherim took a deep breath. "Come with me, Mirimir," she called softly, motioning Legolas out of the way. He moved slowly towards the bathing room, giving Mirimir enough space to inch out of the room without feeling his presence was a threat. 

She followed Leherim at a crouching walk, instead of on all fours like usual. She would drop down every few steps to see how closely Legolas was following, and would hurry to catch up with Leherim, using her hands when she needed more speed. Leherim walked straight to the room she and Legolas had been preparing for the last few weeks and walked in without pausing. 

"This is your new room," she explained softly when Mirimir paused expectantly just inside the door. 

Mirimir sat on her heels and looked around, confusion plain in her light grey eyes. 

"The bathroom is through that door," Leherim continued, "and through here," she murmured, opening the other door, "you can get to the library. You may lock this door whenever you wish, of course. The key is hanging on the knob. The library is generally unused at night, with most visitors coming between lunch and dinner. You may go whenever you wish, and you may keep books for a time, but eventually you should return them so others may use them."

She stopped as Mirimir began looking around, slowly walking, once again on all fours, to the plant on a short pedestal. She touched the leaves lightly, drew her fingers along the velvety length of the few that were uncurled. It was a small, young plant, chosen so she could watch it grow. Mirimir touched the dirt around it, then, after checking that Legolas was remaining next to the door, went to the bathroom and came back with a handful of water, which she sprinkled onto the dirt. 

After two trips she was paused as Legolas moved to intercept her. She sat on her heels and looked warily up at him. 

"This would be faster, and easier," he murmured, holding out a pitcher, choosing to ignore the subtle change in her position that would allow her to escape him quite quickly if he should become threatening. 

She tentatively took it, waiting until he backed off to move to the bathroom once more. 

The siblings heard a splash, and then a small thump, but before they could move Mirimir came out with the water pitcher in her hands, her gait made awkward now without the use of her hands. Water spilled over her fingers with every move, and by the time she was to the plant there was little more there than in a handful of water. 

Mirimir frowned at the glass, and then at the plant as she upended the glass over the pot, shaking it to get the last drops out. Finally she scowled at Legolas, who couldn't help but smile at her annoyance. "If you would walk upright, it would work," he amended.

She frowned and pursed her lips, but went to the bathroom again. Leherim moved so she could see how Mirimir was doing, and bit her lip at what she saw. The glass pitcher had already been filled, and Mirimir slowly inched herself taller, pain apparent in her features as she slowly rose taller than Leherim had ever seen her do. Still, she didn't stand completely upright. Her new stance was less stable than her old, and she wavered with every step, placing one foot tentatively in front of the other, but the water didn't spill from the pitcher as badly, though some sloshed over the rim and onto her fingers. Upon reaching the plant Mirimir crouched again, and used what of the water she felt the plant could use before setting the pitcher on the floor. 

She then moved around the room, touched the few books Leherim had brought from her old room and placed on the shelf, feeling the draping material that covered the smooth stone walls, bringing more warmth and color to the room. She traced patterns in the rug, then sprang across the room to study a tapestry that hung on the wall near the door. Her hands shook slightly as they traveled up the designs carved into the wood, over those created of the stone, and a faint smile escaped her as she traveled to the bed, feeling the warm velvet sheets. She moved to a chair that was near the shelves, crawled onto the seat and curled up there, rubbing her chin against the soft material that covered the arm.

"I guess you like it," Legolas murmured with a smile.

Leherim smiled as well. "Then we shall leave you be. The library has been emptied today only, if you wish to explore it." As they closed the door behind them, she laughed softly and threw her hands in the air, spinning in a few quick circles before Legolas caught her, laughing with her as she wrapped her arms around him. "She liked it! She really liked it!"

"I saw," Legolas teased, a crooked grin appearing. "And she appeared to like the plant, as well."

"Mmm," she agreed. "And she nearly walked upright to take care of it."

"Yes," he agreed with a nod. "She looked as if she had never done so before."

"Or at least not in many long years," Leherim agreed. Suddenly disheartened, she was a bit irritated when a messenger came, obviously wishing Legolas. "I'll see you later."

"Are you sure you would not rather accompany me?" he asked, frowning slightly at her. _Are you going to be fine?_

_I shall be, I am sure,_ she murmured back. "Dinner?"

He shook his head. "We are required, you know that." Their father had requested their attendance for reasons unknown.

"Oh… yes. I shall have to warn her."

"Good idea. But you may do so over lunch."

"Yes."

The messenger was upon them, and did indeed wish Legolas to follow him. He followed with an uncertain backwards glance.

_I'm fine,_ she insisted.

_If you say so,_ he agreed half-heartedly, picking up the pace as he went to answer their father's summons. 

Leherim wandered to one of the gardens that had been created within the palace, and found a small bench there, set into the rock in such a way she would be overlooked by any elves just wandering by.

Or so she thought.

"My lady? Are you well?"

She glanced up to see a dark-haired elf there. He wasn't as tall as Legolas, but was built about the same, a leaner build created by using his body in some sort of strenuous activity on a regular basis. His eyes were stormy grey with a hint of blue, very different from the brilliant to dark blue she shared with her brother. "What?"

He smiled faintly. "I asked if you are well. You seem upset by something." The smiled faded as he tilted his head, observing her.

She studied him a moment longer, and felt nothing but compassion from him. Slowly she nodded. "A fair assessment."

"What troubles you then, fair lady?" he asked, sitting beside her without an invitation.

She considered for a moment, but slowly shook her head. "Talk will not change it. Only time may."

"Are you certain?"

"I am indeed," she agreed softly. 

_Leherim__, Father wishes you here as well._

She blinked. "I'm sorry, but my Father calls."

"I've heard nothing," the elf murmured with a frown.

"Of course not," she agreed softly. "My brother asks," she explained, getting to her feet.

"What has that to do with anything?" he frowned. "I still heard nothing."

She frowned at him, and noticed his clothing for the first time. "You are from Rivendell, then?"

"Yes. I've come to see a few old friends, whom I haven't seen in many long years. What has that to do with anything?" he repeated.

"Everyone around here generally knows my brother and I are close."

"There is nothing wrong with that, but—" He broke off as her eyes glazed.

_Are you planning on coming, or shall I come for you?_ Anger flooded the words.

_I'm coming. I'm just trying to get free of some elf in the garden._

_Need some brotherly assistance?_

_I can handle him, I'm sure._ She turned to the elf, who was blinking at her in surprise. "Good luck finding your friends," she murmured in place of a good bye, before turning and swiftly walking away, leaving one perplexed elf in the gardens, as an angry one began to hunt for her. _I'm coming, I'm coming!_ Legolas was stalking towards her, anger radiating from him, narrowing his eyes. But the dark spokes hadn't spiked into his eyes—something that always happened when he was angry or upset. "Legolas? What's going on?"

He grabbed her arm without a word, his grip firm but not bruising, pulling her along the halls until he dragged her into their father's study. The anger from him disappeared quite suddenly, amusement blasting forth in its place as she figured it out.

"Orc," she muttered fondly.

He chuckled and nudged her into the chair she usually used, before folding his tall frame into his. "It took you so long to come I was about to lose it."

She laughed softly. "You didn't change your eyes," she murmured, looking into those eyes, which were dancing with good humor.

He half-frowned, the other brow quirking up. "My eyes?"

"The dark rims sort of spoke to each other when you're angry or upset, making them much darker."

"Hmm. Yours tend to do the same," he informed her, his eyes laughing.

"As did your mother's," their father murmured. 

They blinked and looked at him, his eyes as bright as theirs when joyful. His never darkened as much as theirs, and they alone could tell the difference. Legolas smiled faintly, his voice quiet. "I remember."

Leherim frowned and looked at her hands, wishing she could. A large hand covered hers, and darkening eyes caught hers before the room faded away. The grey mist solidified as the room became instead the area before the gate. Their mother was laughing, until her eyes fell upon those watching her mistily. 

"Legolas?" she asked, coming forward. "What happened?"

A soft sniffle preceded a shake of the head, the picture shaking with it. 

"Legolas," she prompted, tilting his head up with gentle fingers. Her eyes darkened as she shook her head. "Come on, child. Let's get you cleaned up before dinner. It's not fitting for a prince to come in so bedraggled to a feast." She smiled and kissed his crown, picking him up. "You're getting big, little love." The picture blacked out as his eyes closed, but the sound and feelings were still there. "You'll be big enough to take care of your sister soon."

He looked up at her solemnly. "I'll take care of her, Mother, I promise."

"I know you will," she smiled and kissed his forehead as she ran her hands through his tangled hair. "We'll just have enough time to get all dressed up. Do you think Leherim should join us tonight?"

"Can she?"

She laughed softly. "I suppose we should wait until she sits up on her own, shouldn't we?"

The image went dark, the warmth and sounds fading into the mist before she was looking again into darkened eyes. Leherim closed her eyes with a soft sigh, smiling slightly. _She was wonderful._

_Yes._

_You have taken good care of me,_ she murmured.

_It was never because of the promise, dear one._

_I know,_ she agreed, smiling up at him. She touched his cheek lightly, and then laughed. "That was the best one you could come up with?" she teased.

He smiled slightly and leaned back in his chair. "I didn't often see her angry or upset, dear one." His eyes darkened for a moment, before he shook his head. "We got a bit off the subject, didn't we?" He got up and kissed her temple on his way to get something from the shelf. "Happy birthday, little sister." He pulled a book out and drew a small box from behind it. _Father has something for you, first._

She looked at their father. He smiled and got up, handing her a box. "It was your mother's," he murmured softly, lifting out a delicate necklace with a dark blue stone drop. "She was planning on giving it to you now."

Leherim reached for it, gingerly taking the chain. "Legolas?" she asked softly.

With a slight smile he touched her shoulder, showing her a brief flash of their mother laughing, her fingers toying with the dark drop. 

"Thank you," she murmured, glancing up at the two elves. She ran her fingers lightly over the drop before lifting it for one of them to take. Legolas took it after a moment's hesitation, fastening it around her neck after she lifted her hair out of the way. 

Legolas studied the pendant for a moment, remembering it on his mother's throat before she was gone. He could see the memories in their father's eyes as well, and drew Leherim to her feet without a word, aloud or otherwise. She came along willingly, understanding as she touched the drop which settled down against her throat. 

After wandering silently through the halls for a while, he remembered the box still in his hand. He passed it over without a word as she turned to the garden. He shrugged slightly as she looked at him in question, so with a smile she kissed his cheek and headed into the garden. 

He let the link slide apart, knowing she would speak with him about his gift when she opened it. Without thinking he wandered into the library, glad to find it seemingly unoccupied. He settled himself into a niche that was carved into the wall. For a while he tried to just sit, but finally couldn't hold it in so, drawing his knees to his chest, closing his eyes. He leaned his head against the cool stone, remembering when his mother had been with them. 

"I miss you, Mother," he whispered, squeezing his eyes closed. He swallowed carefully and then sighed, trying to let go of the longing. "You'd think after a few thousand years it wouldn't hurt," he muttered, shaking his head. 

Annoyance, followed quickly by shock and heart-stopping fear suddenly blasted through him. His head snapped up, his eyes nearly blind as he leapt to his feet. "Hold on, Leherim," he muttered, vaguely seeing something crouched near the floor as he sped past. 

Skidding slightly as he turned a corner too sharply, he nearly collided with a few of the nobles, barely righting himself as he sped past, making a mental note to apologize later. Right now he just wanted to know what was scaring his sister. 

He blinked and ran faster as the connection suddenly cut off. He sent out feelers and found her in the garden. Turning another sharp corner he saw red as he saw an elf leaning over her limp body. The next thing he saw was the elf flying backward as he pulled out his dagger, dropping to his sister's side, mostly unaware of the impact pain in his shoulder. Keeping part of his attention aware of the elf, he touched her forehead, checked her breathing. She'd passed out. But why?

"Little one," he whispered, _Leherim__, can you hear me?_

"What's the idea?" the elf muttered getting up.

Legolas glanced up briefly and scowled. "What are you doing here, elf?" he snapped, turning his attention back to his sister.

"Legolas?"

"Got it in one," he growled, flipping his dagger around to remind the elf it was there even as he checked Leherim again. _Time to wake up, little one._

"Legolas, don't you re—"

"Get away from us," Legolas growled, looking up at the interloper. He frowned at the features watching him. "Elrohir?"

The elf smiled faintly. "About time. Yeah, it's me." He began to relax.

Legolas lifted his dagger again. "What are you doing here?" he asked quietly, his eyes narrowing as he got up, half crouched over Leherim. "And what were you doing to her?"

"Apparently making a mistake about who she is. I saw your mother's necklace, and—"

Legolas held up his hand. "I'll ask her, if you don't mind." Actually, asking wasn't quite what he had in mind. He put his free hand on her forehead and glared up at Elrohir. "If you move from that spot, you will find yourself in the dungeons before dinner."

Elrohir shifted uncomfortably and nodded. 

Legolas lowered his dagger, letting it drop to the ground as he sent his consciousness into Leherim. He tried to find her most recent memories, but was daunted by the unfamiliar task. Instead he looked for her, found her where her consciousness was resting, unwilling to face whatever had happened.

_Leherim__?_

_Legolas__?_ She looked up from the book she'd been reading. _What is it?_

He read the cover with a crooked brow. _Interesting choice.__ You need to wake up now._

_Wake up?_

_You're unconscious. You need to wake up._

_If I'm unconscious, then why do I have a nagging brother?_

_Then I'll leave,_ he murmured. With a flare for the dramatic, he snapped his fingers as he pulled himself out of her mind and returned to his own. 

"—all right? Legolas?"

He blinked. "Well?" he asked, looking down at his sister.

She murmured softly and shook her head slightly, blinking her eyes rapidly. "Legolas?"

"Yep," he agreed, kissing her forehead as she sat up. "Welcome back."

"What—" she stopped when she saw Elrohir standing there. "You." She spat the word, getting to her feet. 

Legolas stepped in front of her, unsure what exactly was going on. _Hold on. What happened?_

_He accused me of being a thief, because of Mother's necklace!_

Legolas's eyes widened and he fought a smile. "Really?" he asked, turning to Elrohir.

Elrohir looked between them in confusion. "Want to explain, Leaf?"

Leherim's mouth dropped open, and Legolas instinctively ducked away, but she still managed to hit him. "You know him?"

"So do you!" he defended, catching her hands before she could decide if she wanted to hit him again or not. 

"No I don't," she frowned.

"Yes you do," he insisted, grinning despite himself. 

"I don't—"

_Elrohir__, sister dear.__ One of Elrond's sons. You do know him._

She blinked and stopped fighting. With a frown she looked at the elf again. "It is!" she exclaimed. Reassured, she pulled her hands from Legolas's, walking up to the elf. "Elrohir!" Before Legolas could move or get a warning off of his tongue she snapped her arm back and slugged Elrohir, sending him back several paces—which made him stumble over a tree root and fall rather unceremoniously to the ground—before she whirled and stalked out of the garden. 

"Sorry. Afraid she gets that from me." He hauled Elrohir onto his feet.

"So I do know her? I thought she looked vaguely—what _is_ so funny, Legolas?"

"You only spent three years living in the same valley as she did," he grinned. 

Elrohir blinked and put a few things together. "_That_ is Leherim?" He turned and looked where she had headed. "She has grown up."

"Well, you haven't seen her since she was a mere child."

"Yes, when your father gave up trying to keep you two apart. I guess I just saw it in action, didn't I?"

"Indeed."

Elrohir winced. "Would you tell her I'm sorry, then? I saw your mother's necklace, and didn't even think about it having been given to your sister… of course, I didn't know she was your sister." He frowned at the ground, considering. "I suppose I should have. You both have the same eyes." 

Legolas lifted a brow at the absent comment. "Just never forget I know you better than she does now."

Elrohir accepted the warning with a sigh. "And no doubt she'll have big brother ready with his dagger whenever she needs him."

"No doubt," he agreed with a faint smile. He shook his head slightly. "You scared her, you realize."

"And I shall apologize in person, as well."

"Maybe you should anyway. I wasn't linked to her then."

"And you won't just tell her?"

"I'm sure she knows, anyway." Legolas smiled slightly and retrieved his dagger, slipping it back into its sheath. 

_Legolas__?_

_What?_

_Why is he here?_

"Good question," he murmured, before repeating it mentally. "Why are you here?"

"I came to see you two," Elrohir admitted sheepishly. "Father's getting all involved with his brother's descendants again, so we all wanted out of the way for a while. Elladan and Arwen went to Grandmother's, but I thought Mirkwood would be more interesting." He ruefully looked around, rubbing his jaw. "Glad to see I was right."

Legolas chuckled softly and shook his head. "I'm surprised you made it this far without being brought to our attention."

"Your father knows, but I asked to find you in my own time. Never, ever again."

"Well, now that she knows what you look like, it shouldn't be such an issue."

"Very funny." 

_Well?_

_He came to see us._

"What'd she want?"

"An answer to her question. She's in our rooms." He turned to his friend. "Do you wish me to lead you there?"

"You aren't headed there?"

"I have a few other things I wish to do," he murmured. "And being out of range would be nice when she begins throwing things," he added.

"Let me guess. You taught her to throw, as well?"

"You expected me to leave my sister here, defenseless?" He smiled faintly. "Besides, she was the only one around my age."

"She's stronger than she looks."

"Yes she is," he agreed. "But she is also delicate," he frowned slightly. "Whether or not she wishes to show it."

_Aren't we all, dear tough brother?_

_Get out of my head, sister dear. You weren't invited, and you have nothing to say._

_Orc__._She pulled out of his mind with the equivalent of a mental smack just as Legolas and Elrohir reached a place in the halls where Legolas could easily direct Elrohir to their rooms, with the strict warning not to go beyond sitting rooms. 

Elrohir sent him a dry look and shook his head, leaving Legolas to do as he wished, silently entering the room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	8. Growing closer

Huh. Are you all Elrohir haters? He gets punched, and people think it's funny. Weird. 

Just kidding. Sort of. I like Elrohir, honest I do… but Leherim needs to have some fun too… and he rather deserved it, for making her pass out and worring Legolas so much. I wonder if Legolas remembers to go back and apologize… 

Legolas and Leherim have been close for a long, long time… but it is NOT in any way inappropriate. I realize the obvious comfort with touching and kissing each other could hint at something like that, but it simply isn't so. They would protect each other to the end, comfort and console with words or with a simple touch, but I must repeat—NOT INAPPROPRIATELY. Today we tend to be uncomfortable seeing any closeness between people, going so far as yelling at couples holding hands to get a room (I have observed this myself, no exaggeration here). These two know each other better even than most people given thousands of years would, because they can send thoughts and feelings at the same instant as they are felt. I had a professor once say that three inches is the loneliest distance—the distance between the outside world and what we are really thinking, because no one can bridge it. These two have. I don't know if I would personally consider it a blessing or a curse to be so close to a _sibling_, but we are talking about elves. 

Now, I'll just put my little soap box away, and you can get onto the new chapter, which was delayed for illness and then catching up on school work once I was out of the hospital. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Elrohir's coming your way._

_What?!?__ Why?_

_To apologize, I believe. Try not to give him a black eye to go with his swollen jaw, all right?_

She sighed. _Oh, very well.__ I shall try not to._

_That's good. I'd hate to have to save him from you. I've had enough for one day, thank you very much._

_Troll. What are you going to do?_

_Think somewhere. Did you ever open my present?_

_I—he's here. Later, dear brother._

He shook his head at her sarcastic tone and butted out of the conversation.

Leherim sighed softly in relief, looking up at the elf as he walked in.

"Legolas warned you?"

"Of course," she agreed with a slight frown. "Why wouldn't he have done so?"

Elrohir smiled slightly and shrugged. "You've got me there. There's no reason for him not to. Must be rather dull, though, never having surprises."

"There are surprises you like, and some you don't. A birthday is enjoyable. A surprise attack is not."

He frowned, his eyes darkening. "I didn't come to retaliate, Leherim. I came to apologize and ask that we renew our friendship of old."

She studied him for a moment, took in the swelling on the left side of his jaw. With a sigh she nodded. "As long as you do not call me a thief, I think that may be possible, unless you have come as a spy."

"I have come as a friend."

"Even spies are sometimes friends," she murmured blithely. "How am I to know it isn't so with you?"

"I know you're a princess among suspicious wood-elves, Lee, but that doesn't sound like you."

"You don't know me anymore." She pinned him with a long look taken from Legolas's repertoire of intimidating new recruits at the palace. 

He smiled—not the anticipated or desired result. "Perhaps not, but I know that look. How could I have not seen who you are? It's as obvious as your features, your hair. You two look a lot like your mother, you know."

"I remember very little of her, actually," she admitted softly. "I was still quite young when she…" Leherim tightened her jaw and turned slightly away. She shook off the hand that rested comfortingly on her shoulder. "Well," she murmured tightly. "You have not been shown around the kingdom, have you?"

"No," he agreed softly, his eyes dark as he watched her, seeming to ask why she rejected his effort to comfort her. _After all,_ his eyes whispered, _I have not seen my mother in many long years either._

It was different from when Legolas spoke with her, for she could hear Legolas as clearly as if he was speaking from a foot away. The words would be laced with whatever he was feeling, and the feelings often came across as well, though she knew he had more control over that than did she. But Elrohir's words were more of a whisper, a hint of what he wanted to say. More like he didn't expect her to pick up on them. She decided to experiment. _Have you been to your Grandmother's recently?_

He blinked, his eyes widening. An affirmative was in his eyes, but no voice came to her.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "That's hard to do," she murmured aloud, lifting a hand to her temples.

"But you do it all the time with—"

She shook and then dropped her hand, waving off the rest of his statement with a flick of her wrist. "That's very different. For Legolas and me it's as if we are speaking aloud, but no one else can hear. This is more like a whisper, a hint."

"It's all I've been taught to do," he defended softly. 

She shrugged. "Well, it's very weak and rather difficult." 

"If you have the gift, you could probably do that with most anyone."

She shook her head and led him out of the room. "No. Legolas and I have been trying to include Father for centuries without the slightest hint of success." She shrugged again and began showing him the palace, the village, and what of the forest they were allowed into unarmed. She remembered Legolas's comment and turned back to the garden Elrohir had accused her in, finding her way quickly to the spot. She hunted around while Elrohir watched. "You could make yourself useful and look."

"Look for what?"

"The box Legolas gave me," she muttered, peering through leaves. 

"How big was it?"

"Not very. About this long," she held her hands apart, "very narrow, and about this," she cut the distance in half, "wide." She glanced around. "It was blue."

"What else would it be?" he shrugged slightly and began looking.

Leherim's head snapped up at the comment. "What was that to mean?"

"What was what—oh. Nothing," he shook his head and went back to searching.

"I don't believe you, Elrohir. What was it to mean?"

"Oh, forget it," he insisted. 

She narrowed her eyes at him, and then sat down where she was, crossing her arms over her chest to glare at him. 

"Found it," he murmured, forcing cheerfulness into the tone. "Do you know what's in it?"

"No, I don't. What did you mean?"

"You aren't going to let it go, are you?"

"Not bloody likely," she muttered, before coloring and clamping a hand to her mouth. 

He chuckled softly. "You should hear Arwen when we get her going," he teased.

"Oh," she made as if to hit him with the box. "So?"

"So?—oh. You are a stubborn little thing, aren't you?"

"My brother and I are a lot alike," she agreed. 

Elrohir had butted heads with the prince often enough to take it as fair warning. "Okay. It just seems that blue is the favored color of your family, that's all. It's what they tend to wear at gatherings, and such…" he finished weakly. 

"We wear it because it is a sign of royalty, something we are expected and practically required to wear. Not because it is our favorite color." 

"The why is the box blue?"

"It was probably delivered in a blue box, or such a box was all he could find to put it in. It has nothing to do with his color preference."

"Which is?" he asked, holding out a hand to draw her to her feet.

"He prefers green and silver." She dusted off the back of her gown.

"What do you prefer?"

"I…" she trailed off and colored slightly. 

"Well?"

She lowered her eyes and studied the box. "Silver."

"And?"

She glared at him from the corner of her eyes before heading off through the halls again. "Blue," she muttered. 

"So he could have chosen the box because you like the color?" He chuckled softly at her disgruntled expression. "What of your father, then?"

"Dark red."

"No other color?"

"No. He accepts blue, but it's dark red he prefers. Gold or silver are but more colors to him."

"Hmm. Interesting."

She snorted and wandered to the rooms she shared with Legolas. 

"Aren't you going to open it?"

"Wha—oh. I suppose I should sometime today," she agreed, sitting down on one of the couches in the main sitting room. She popped the latch out of the way with a fingernail, and slowly opened the small box. She laughed softly when she saw what it was. _Very funny, Legolas._

_What?__ You've been bugging me for decades to get you one._

She held the dagger up and tested the weight of it in her palm. _It's a good fit._

_Good. I can teach you more now that you have one made for you. Or you could probably coerce Elrohir into it, if you'd rather, as long as he's here._

_Do you think he knows any more about it than I do?_

Legolas chuckled softly in their minds. _Maybe not, but for other forms, I'd say yes. The twins have trained well, through the years, though they seem to be lacking in the sister-training area._

_Not entirely,_ she murmured dryly. _Apparently they taught Arwen to curse._

_What?!?_ Legolas choked on his surprise for an instant. _Arwen?__ Sweet little butter wouldn't melt in her mouth Arwen?_

_I take it you've met her?_

_I have, rather recently only. She spends a lot of time with her mother's people, as do Elladan and Elrohir, of course._

_So apparently the siblings don't always get along as well as do we?_

_Do you see either of them here?_

She laughed softly. _Well met, Legolas.__ I suppose I should return to the room, in case he's trying to speak with me._

_He's already figured out the look that goes with us speaking, so I would be surprised if he is._

_Alright__. Thank you, and if he doesn't know more than I do, I'll be pinning you down for training._

_Very funny._

She laughed again and spun the dagger around, an expert little flip that would startle most elves who didn't know Legolas had been training her since he had begun mastering the basics. The lessons had ceased partially because of the pressure for a princess to not be trained as a warrior, but mostly because he couldn't teach her any more than he had with the weapons they had to work with, and so their training had ceased almost a hundred years ago, though he would remind her to practice, from time to time. 

"It is a very beautiful dagger," Elrohir murmured.

Leherim blinked and looked from him to the dagger, trying to see what he meant. "I suppose so," she agreed. There was an ancient battle prayer scripted down the short blade, and silver twisted around the handle, which was of black leather, with small markings burned into it. A blue stone graced the top of the haft at either side, smooth and glimmering. The blade itself was long, tapering simply to a perfect point, both sides sharpened to deadly precision. She put two fingers at the point where the haft met the blade, showing it balanced perfectly. "But its looks have no meaning. Its strength is the important part, the balance, the weight of it, the way it rests in the hand—it is a very fine dagger. Now Legolas can teach me more."

"You're going to have Legolas teach you how to use a dagger?"

"He is quite capable of doing so," she defended her brother at once, her eyes darkening.

"I've no doubt for his abilities with the bow or his twin daggers, or for the sword he sometimes carries, but a single dagger? Not exactly his favorite, is it?"

"He is still very adept."

"You needn't get prickly about it," he murmured softly, frowning at her. "I was merely stating fact. Legolas prefers other weapons than this."

"Yes, but he was not allowed to join the guard until he was as good as his teachers."

"As it should be," Elrohir agreed with a nod. "Where others could get by, he had to excel. Being a prince makes it mandatory to be well versed in the art of defending oneself and those he loves. That he joined the guards makes it all the more important that he be deadly with any weapon he could chance upon in time of need."

"Then why do you doubt he would be a good teacher?"

"To be perfectly honest, I don't think he has the patience to teach his little sister to fight."

"You think you could do better?"

"I would be sure of it."

"Then you shall have to prove it to me," she murmured, hiding a triumphant grin. _You're temporarily off the hook. Elrohir's going to do it._

_Hmm. Took you less time than I expected._

"I shall," Elrohir murmured. "Did he want something, or did you have something to tell him?"

"Hmm? Oh, it's nothing." She got up. "Well, dinner is to be served shortly. Shall we?"

Elrohir smiled slowly. "It would be an honor to escort you, princess," he bowed slightly and held out his arm for her.

Leherim started to correct him, but rolled her eyes and gave in instead, though she refused his arm until they were at the doors. She blinked and looked around as she entered, wondering when the colors on the wall had been changed. Her eyes widened as she remembered. "Oh I forgot, I—"

"I'll do it tonight," Legolas murmured, coming up from one of the sides. _Father probably intended us to meet Elrohir at dinner, so I can no doubt be excused. Besides, she really is getting better around me, you know._

_She'll eat with both of us in the room, yes, but with you alone?_

_One way to find out, sister dear._

She sighed. _Very well.__ But if she doesn't eat you must give her a chance to, and return in about ten minutes to remove the tray._

_I know, I know. Eat with Father, would you?_

_I am, I am._ She frowned and nibbled on her lower lip. _I hope she accepts this._

Legolas smiled slightly and shrugged, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "You should probably stop by later," he murmured aloud.

"Inform her I will," she agreed, nodding slightly. "You'd best go."

He nodded and started to move past, but the look on Elrohir's face was too good to pass up without comment. "What's wrong, Elrohir? You look like you just missed avoiding one of Elladan's pranks."

The elf slowly shook his head. "I knew about you two, and I expected it… But this is more than I expected."

Legolas laughed softly and clapped the confused elf's shoulder. "You'll get used to it. Everyone else has." He missed what Elrohir said to Leherim about that, but could feel her amusement as he headed to the kitchen for Mirimir's meal. His own tray was waiting, with enough food for Leherim as well. He removed most of the extra food, and carried the two trays up to Mirimir's new room. 

He set one on the table and opened the door, carrying in the other. "Evening, Mirimir," he murmured, seeing her on the chair near the shelf. She remained there as he set the tray on the table beside her, and didn't move even as he settled himself on the bed facing her. "An old friend from Imladris has arrived today, and Leherim has chosen to eat with him."

At the word 'him' her head snapped up, her eyes darker with disbelief. 

"Elrohir won't hurt her," he frowned at her. "Besides, should he try anything, I'll feel it. She's not that good at blocking her emotions, not for more than a minute, anyway. Doing so exhausts her control very quickly."

Mirimir frowned and ran a hand through her short hair, sending the strands about her chin in disarray. She looked down at the tray, absently took something from it and began to eat. 

Legolas smiled slightly and turned to his own meal. "Are you finished?" he asked softly, looking at her nibbled plate. "You don't eat enough, Mirimir," he murmured with a frown. Encouraged by her comfort with him so far that evening, he knelt before the chair, looping his fingers around her upper arms, easily touching his finger to his thumb. "You're far too thin. There is plenty of food, little one, you should have become a bit more than bones, as long as you've been here." 

She frowned at him, tilted her head and studied him solidly. Her grey eyes shifted over his face, down to the hand still around her arm. She reached out and removed his hand, dropping it to his side. Suddenly she inched her fingers out and touched his cheek lightly, before snatching her hand back as if burned.

"It's all right," he murmured, taking her hand. 

Her frown returned, but she let him guide her fingers over his face. She bit her lip lightly, but continued her explanation as he dropped his hand. Her hair slashed over her face, hiding her eyes. Without thinking he reached up, was almost to touch her when her hand fell from his face, returning to be cradled by the other in her lap. "I won't hurt you," he promised with a faint frown. "I was just going to…" he lightly slipped a fingertip beneath the strands and drew a feather light line across her temple and behind her ear, tucking the strands out of the way.

She watched him as he did so, but she didn't tremble, didn't flinch, didn't turn glass-eyed and turn away. She simply watched him. 

"I don't know why you're suddenly comfortable with me, but I'm glad it's finally happened."

Her eyes widened, and she lowered her gaze, a faint touch of blood coming to the tips of her ears. 

"You _do_ understand. Mirimir, can't you speak?"

She looked away, her gaze falling onto the shelf. She reached for a book absently, smoothing her fingers over the illumination on the cover. 

"You understand me, I know that. Won't you respond?" He reached out again and lightly touched her cheek.

She pulled back, sinking deeper into her chair to avoid his touch. She shook her head and moved her hand to intercept his, keeping him from touching her again. She shook her head harder.

"Okay, you don't want me to touch you, right?"

Her eyes flickered to his for an instant, but she focused on her bare feet where they poked out from under her skirt. 

He sighed softly, slowly standing. He moved back and sat on the bed, watching her. She relaxed a bit, letting her hair slide in front of her face again, peeking out at him from behind her lashes every now and then. 

After a time he shook his head. "I wish you would just explain it all. If not to me, to Leherim. But perhaps you are incapable of speech, even though you do understand it. Still, you could make a sign, somehow." He frowned at the books. "Can you read?"

She looked down and slowly shook her head. 

"No. Thought not. Would you like to learn? You could get a lot more out of the library that way." 

Mirimir looked at the book that rested against her thighs, opened it and ran her fingers lightly over a few of the fairly large words. She frowned at them, and then slowly held the book out for him. He took it with a smile.


	9. Through her eyes

Leherim bit her lip and looked up at Elrohir. "I'll ask Legolas—"

"We've already parted," he cut in. "He had something he wished to do at this time, so we said our farewells earlier."

"Oh," she frowned and looked down. "It shall be many years until we meet again, if we do so on these shores."

"Yes," he agreed softly, his eyes darkening. "Unless you choose to travel to Imladris."

"Father would never let me go without Legolas, and Legolas shan't leave as long as things are so unsettled here."

"Then it shall be many years, indeed." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. His horse stomped impatiently, reminding them both he planned to leave within mere minutes. 

"Until we meet again, farewell," she murmured at last, lifting her hand to his cheek.

His hand moved from his heart to her cheek, letting his thumb run under her eye gently for longer than was strictly necessary. 

Leherim watched the stormy eyes darken a fraction more, fastened to hers. He lifted his other hand and framed her face, before kissing her quickly. _I shall miss you,_ the whisper came through as he turned his horse back from the gate for an instant, his eyes dark with everything neither had had the courage to say. 

_And I you._

The gate snapped shut as Elrohir rode out. 

She sighed and wrapped her arms about her, lowering her gaze before she returned to the palace. Absently she wandered, and was far from surprised when her steps ended up winding her to a place she could hear Legolas.

"Lothlorien," he murmured softly. "You know about the wood, don't you?" 

Leherim blinked and checked her surroundings, not sure she was in the right place.

"Oh… well, I'll find a good book on the elven dwellings of Middle-Earth, and I'll bring it for next time. You should know more about the elves than it seems you do."

Leherim frowned and pushed the door open. Her mouth dropped open at what she found. 

Legolas was on the couch with Mirimir beside him. Mirimir was holding a book, pointing at words on the page. Legolas was leaning over to see, his head nearly on Mirimir's shoulder, and she didn't seem to mind, nor really to notice. When she pointed at a word, he said it aloud, adding something about its meaning if she looked up at him with questioning grey eyes.

"Legolas?"

His head twisted around, and he smiled crookedly. "Elrohir finally left?"

"What…" _You're teaching her to read?_

_Why not?_

_When did she get so comfortable around you?_

_The day Elrohir came. You've been a bit too busy to notice._

_Funny._

_I wasn't laughing._ His eyes darkened slightly.

She sighed softly. _I'm sorry._

He shook his head slightly and got up. "Don't be," he murmured, pulling her gently into a hug. He kissed her forehead and drew back slightly, sitting down once more. "Did you bring our food?"

"Um… I'll get it."

He shook his head with a grin, already getting up. "Don't trouble, dear sister. I shall." His steps were somewhat jaunty as he strode from the room.

Leherim looked at Mirimir, who was looking at the book. She flipped a page, her fingers trailing lightly first over the pictures, then the words. Light grey eyes fastened on the page for a long moment, her finger paused over one word. She bit her lip, and looked up. Finally she tilted the book to Leherim. "Cavalry." Mirimir blinked and lifted her gaze to Leherim's. Leherim smiled slightly to see the utter lack of fear there. "It's a soldier riding a horse, instead of going on foot. Well, actually, a cavalry is a group of riders, really."

"Could you make that any more confusing?" Legolas asked from the door, balancing their trays, his tone teasing.

"Oh, I'm sure I could, if I tried," she murmured. _Has she spoken?_

_No, and she rarely will give a true response._ "Hungry, Mirimir?" he asked, setting the trays down on the bed.

Mirimir slowly walked in a partial crouch to the bed, climbed up and began eating. When she would have been done, Legolas frowned at the plate. "Are you full?"

Mirimir reached down and picked up a bit more.

"Legolas, you can't force her to eat!"

"I'm not! She doesn't eat enough normally. Or haven't you noticed she eats about half what you do on a normal day no matter what? She's had enough time to get beyond the necessary small meals after having been nearly starved, but there's no call for her to no longer eat enough. Her clothing hangs off of her as if designed by a sail-maker."

"Perhaps she likes…" Leherim looked at Mirimir and frowned. "Well…"

"Well, maybe a bit of weight would help her out? She wouldn't blow away, should she ever go outside." Legolas shook his head and reached out, looping his fingers lightly around Leherim's wrist. He moved them up, not even reaching her elbow before his fingers would have had to tighten to remain around her arm. "I realize you have more muscle than many ladies," he murmured, reaching out. "But still…" he trailed off, wrapping his fingers easily around Mirimir's upper arm. "Mirimir…"

"Stop berating her! She'll eat if she wants to eat!"

"But we don't know—" He visibly cut off his words, grimacing slightly. _We don't know if she was trained to eat only enough to sustain her life or not. She could have been punished for eating anything more than the bare minimum… when she was given food at all. How can we contend with something like that?_

_Why not just ask her? You seem to have gotten quite comfortable with her. Perhaps I should have left you two alone more often!_

Legolas's eyes widened and he blinked a few times, before his eyes narrowed and darkened, the rims spoking together. "Leherim, you have forgotten to think before speaking."

"What, there are rules even when no one can hear us?" she snapped at him.

"Leherim," he growled, his eyes glittering. 

"Oh, please. You will never scare me, Legolas. I know you too well."

"I'm not trying to scare you, Leherim. I just wish to know what's gotten into you all of a sudden."

"There's nothing wrong with me! I'm not the one who has been keeping secrets!"

"Secrets? What secrets?" he exploded, spreading his hands. Mirimir flinched away, inching towards getting off the bed.

"What of all this? You never told me you had made any progress with her, never said you'd begun teaching her to read, nothing!"

"You were busy with Elrohir! I thought you'd rather spend your time with him than with us!"

"You're just—"

"If you say jealous, Leherim, I swear—"

"What? You'll what?"

In answer he got off the bed, towering over her. They were unaware of the picture they presented to anyone who happened to be watching. Bright blond hair and narrowed eyes the color of twilight, in their anger they were terrible to behold. There was an odd beauty to them as well, a cold light that shown in the hard set of Legolas's jaw, the pursing of Leherim's lips. 

Without a word Legolas turned and stalked to the door. 

Leherim's eyes widened in shock, her mouth opening as she realized what had just happened. "Legolas!" she cried out, turning on the bed to see him. "Don't."

Legolas stopped, bowing his head slightly without turning back. "Don't what? Be angry? I think I have a right."

"Yes," she agreed, her tone miserable. "But don't leave like this. It'll never be the same if… if you let my words drive you away." She looked down at her hands, clenching them tightly together before moving to interlace them more and more tightly. "I… I just… I miss…" she bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut. A soft sob escaped her as arms fastened around her. 

Legolas sighed in relief and kissed her temple, rocking her gently as she fought to control her emotions. After a while she was relaxed, sitting in his embrace with her head on his shoulder, her eyes unseeing though she was wide awake. "I suppose I shall have to speak with Father about allowing us to visit Imladris, won't I?" he murmured when he could speak again.

"Perhaps Elrond would allow him to come back," she whispered hopefully.

Legolas winced slightly, knowing that was unlikely.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

He shut his eyes and shook his head. "That apparently I've lost control of it."

"No," she shook her head against him, resting her forehead against his neck. "But I know you well enough to know silence often means a lot. What were you thinking?"

"That whatever was enough to make Elrond think sending his children away for was enough to make him wish to keep them close, since he has recalled them so quickly." He combed through her hair with his fingers, gently picking a few knots apart. "I know Arwen has spent centuries in Lothlorien before without visiting her father. Elladan and Elrohir as well, though they prefer Imladris. To take less than a year for any visit is very unusual."

"So you don't think Elrohir will be allowed to come back?"

"Not for many long years, no. You spoke of these shores in your goodbye, did you not?"

"Of course. That's just common… no." She pulled back, and when he didn't look at her, she grabbed his chin and forced him to do so. "No!"

He sighed softly, shaking his head as he was unable to reassure her as her eyes demanded of him. "Things are difficult now, dear one. You know that."

"Yes, but… are things really so bad?" Not being one of the guard, and being female, she was rarely told the intricate details which set those in the know on edge, keeping them wary. Legolas rarely shared those with her, for the same reason their father didn't.

"The forces are stirring. Things change. Something is happening, Leherim. I have felt it in the woods, on the wind. And Mithrandir has thrice been seen nearby."

"You assume that old wizard is up to something?"

"When isn't he?" he asked, amusement in the tone.

She smiled slightly. "Good point." She was thoughtfully silent for a long moment, then pulled free of her brother's arms and got up, stretching. She looked at the plant for a long moment, noticing for the first time the large number of leaves that had grown since she was last in the room. Turning back she saw Mirimir, her eyes wide and her head tilted as she studied Legolas with a single-minded attention that seemed somehow out of place. Leherim bit the inside of her cheek and looked at Legolas, trying to put herself in Mirimir's place.

What she saw was an elf, admittedly a fairly handsome one, with caring eyes that never failed to see how she felt, to pick up on her distress or pain, shared it as willingly as he shared her laughter and joy. It made her feel worse than their fight had. He had never complained about her spending all of her time, except when she had grown angry with the elf, with Elrohir. He hadn't even chastised her for ignoring their father, nor even spoken for Mirimir, because she was happy with Elrohir. He knew that, and allowed her her happiness without comment, though she had never shared it with him, even on the subtle levels of communication they had long ago perfected. 

What did Mirimir see? 

When she had first been brought in, that was obvious. She saw another being who, she felt, would cause her pain. Now, Leherim saw something else in the light grey depths. Trust. It was small, and surrounded by tons of confusion, but it was there. Something Legolas had done had won her trust. 

Was it his patience? Bringing her food? Teaching her to read? 

Was it simply that he had not struck her? Had helped get her released from her bonds?

Or was it something more? That trust she had seen, only in the slightest glimmer, as Legolas read to Mirimir earlier. Now it was stronger, though no where near the trust most had in him merely because he was the Prince—held to a higher code of honor and duty than most. 

Suddenly it hit her—he hadn't. Hit her, that is. Despite his anger, which had been as obvious as she knew her own had been, he hadn't touched her, yelled at her, or anything. He had threatened her only with the removal of his company—which had been threat enough, in her opinion. 

Leherim sighed softly, hating the idea that something so simple and common could be such a confusing and world-changing event for anyone. Legolas's brows tilted slightly together, a faint frown coming as he tried to understand whatever her eyes were showing him. She reached out and touched his cheek, sliding her palm under his chin to raise his head. She smiled slightly. "I'm sorry I lashed out at you. You've done nothing more than been the best friend and brother I could ever dream and more than any would dare ask, and I make you the brunt of my tumultuous emotions." She tucked a bit of hair behind his ear and bent to kiss his forehead. "I love you."

He smiled faintly, caught her hand and drew it to his lips, kissing the back quickly. "And I you, dear sister. Mood swings and all," he teased. "You know," he murmured, getting up, "there is a simple way for you and Elrohir to keep in touch."

"What? Letters?" she asked, bitingly sarcastic.

"Exactly."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Legolas, dear brother, you have lost your senses. We cannot send messengers back and forth in such a time. It is too dangerous to allow any to ride through the woods. Elrohir will have gone through as quickly as the guards will go, but a messenger alone will not be safe, and we would never force them to go. Royal prerogative is one thing, murder another."

He smiled faintly and shook his head. "But where horses may not run, birds can easily fly."

The falconry!

His smile broadened as he saw the realization in her eyes. "Give Elrohir a few days, and then send a letter. He knows of our birds, and will undoubtedly understand fairly quickly. It should not take long at all for a reply, with the understanding the first reply shall take the longest, and that the letter should be rather general, and probably from us both until he knows to watch the sky and intercept the letters."

She laughed and threw her arms about his neck. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you! A fabulous idea… even if I didn't think of it. I'll go—"

"No, you won't," he corrected gently, catching her arms as she began to leave. "Father has missed you. You should speak with him before doing anything else, and seeing as how there will be more than a week before you can send a letter, you shouldn't bother writing one yet. It will make the wait seem longer."

Slowly she nodded. "Thank you," she murmured softly. _For everything._ She glanced at Mirimir. _You've worked wonders with her._

_No,_ he denied. _I have spent time with her, but that is all. She is not my project, in any way._

_But you took over for me while—_

_Do you hear me? She is not my project. She shouldn't be anyone's project. She is an elf, Leherim. One who has been badly treated in the past. It is our duty as her hosts, and our obligation as elves to care to her physical needs. Beyond that it is up to us, on our own, to proceed or not._

_Why the speech?_

He smiled faintly at her confusion. _The last thing she needs is to feel we are with her only out of pity._

_But I do pity her._

He frowned. _Then there is a large difference between us, Leherim. I wish her to feel comfortable here, safe. I want her to walk upright proudly to face the world she fears, knowing that we will never let her down._

_You want what may never be._

_Perhaps.__ But knowing what I want means I can work towards it, doesn't it?_

_Just don't get hurt, alright?_

He smiled softly and nodded. _I think, with the progress she has made, I have no fear for that anymore._

_She could always regress, you know. You could come in one day and have her cower away. She did flinch while you were so angry, or did you not notice that?_

_I didn't. But she has not flinched away from me since, so maybe things are getting better._

_I'm sure they are,_ she agree quietly, smiling at him before saying her goodbye to them both. Then she sought out her father, knowing there would be a grueling, though loving, question and answer session over her involvement with Elrohir. 

_Good luck with Father._

She sent him a mental razz. _Wait until it's your turn, brother dearest._

_I'm your only brother._

_Your point?_

_I have to be the dearest, since I'm the only._

_Yes, you're my only bother._

_Very funny._

_Orc._

They laughed together before letting the connection slide closed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Leherim was sure pushing for a fight, wasn't she? Of course, Legolas's reaction rather made it worth it, I think. I just love playing with emotions, and this story plays into that enjoyment quite nicely. Thanks to everyone who reviewed/e-mailed… 

Iluvien: Did you spend most of the day reading stories? Not that I mind you reading/reviewing by any means, I was just a bit surprised anyone would review chapters they hadn't read when there were more already beyond it. As for the severed connection (I think your other questions were answered by the next chapters, if not, let me know), he did that so that he could fully concentrate on what was going on around him. I think somewhere Leherim reminisces about how a loss of concentration during such a time could kill him, so while she isn't against the silence, having it cut off so suddenly rather than fading away rather worried her, as it would be as if he had been struck unconscious/killed, though it was likely they were just ambushed so suddenly he didn't have a choice. Mirimir has been around at a few times where she's getting an idea that he isn't as bad as she assumed… so yes, she is beginning to thaw a little, though warming up might be pushing it. As for Elrohir… well, he's momentarily gone. Obviously he'll have to come back sometime, but right now… back to Imladris (and a new foster-brother) for him. Do you know which twin is older? I've never been able to find anything that explains… and fanfics I've read with them in it tend to disagree on which is older. 

Silverecho: Thank you for the heartening and (as one of my annoying teachers would say) 'warm and fuzzy' review. I try to write what I like to read, and I've found I have no desire to read beyond the point where they lay eyes on each other and are instantly enraptured by the other's beauty. As to the review part, I was messing around the other day, and found several of my stories in the favorite's section of people I've never heard of, much less from. So, I'd say you're right. ;) 


	10. Gardens and Dwarves

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A frown drew dark brows together, knitting them together over washed-out grey eyes. The corner of Mirimir's lower lip was drawn between her teeth, being nibbled absently. Concerned eyes turned to him, making him smile slightly as he moved to stand behind her place on the bench in the small garden he'd taken her to earlier in the year. Since then, she had found a way to get him to take her at least once every few days. 

He rested his hands on her shoulders, wondering a little why she still kept her hair so short. There had been time enough for it to be nearly normal length, but she still managed to keep it just at her chin. When Leherim had tried to let her hair grow, Mirimir had gotten a hold of scissors herself and chopped it raggedly off in such a way it had wound up nearly at her ears by the time Leherim had finished straightening it. He didn't mind. It was different, sure, but he'd gotten used to watching her tilt her hair across her face to hide her emotions. Besides, it was great fun watching Leherim argue through pantomimes about whether or not Mirimir's hair would be cut or not. Mirimir always won, though she more or less ignored Leherim's gestures.

Mirimir frowned and turned slightly to face him, reaching up to tug at his sleeve. 

He smiled at her and shook his head. "She'll be fine soon," he promised, moving around to sit beside her on the bench. "Think you can keep those eyes of yours from giving away a secret?" he asked, turning to face her.

Her eyes darkened slightly, but remained fastened on his, before she nodded once.

He leaned in conspiratorially, putting his mouth near her ear so no one else could overhear him. "Father has arranged for Elrohir and Elladan to arrive shortly. The hunting parties are keeping an eye out for them." 

A faint smile curved her lips, and her eyes sparkled with hints of silver for an instant, before some commotion in the hall drew their attention. The other elves in the small garden paused and turned with a collective frown. 

"What could possibly…?" Legolas got up and moved to a side entrance, half-aware of Mirimir slinking off, her steps quick and muted as she sped down the hall to her room, her ungainly half crouch keeping her low to the ground. "What is this?" he asked of a guard who had been rushing down the corridor towards the gate.

"Dwarves have been spotted, my lord," he answered, bowing his head.

"Dwarves?" Legolas scowled. "Where?"

"Umm… in the forest. We captured one and brought him here. He shall be in court in a few moments…"

"Then my father has sent for me, has he not?"

"Umm… yes, I believe. Though, of course, it's not my—"

"Thank you anyway," Legolas bowed his head slightly, dismissing the elf with a mental shake of his head. Though the elf knew him, he didn't recall the elf's name. He should know, considering how close in age he was to both Legolas and Leherim, but he simply did not. He was, after all, a prince, which seemed to put fear into the hearts of almost all around him. Almost. Mirimir's original fear, which seemed to have vanished entirely, was from a completely different source, and had nothing to do with his rank. The ladies who hung around the halls and gardens where they expected he would be didn't fear him in the least. 

While he didn't mind not being feared, the way they perceived him utterly annoyed him. To them he was nothing more than an animal to be hunted. So far, he had found no trap clever enough to keep him ensnared, even when he did go for the bait. Unless one should see him differently, he'd like to keep it that way. 

With a sigh he strode quickly to the throne room, just as a servant came out. "Oh, your highness, the King—"

"I'm on my way," he answered, shouldering his way past without bothering to pause. 

"Actually, my lord," the elf hesitated. "He wanted you to find the princess."

Legolas halted, frowning as he considered this new development. "I will speak with him, then," he stated, heading into the throne room, changing his steps to lose the confidence he knew he walked with to the more hesitant ones of a servant. There was a loud spluttering from the back, along with dwarfish curses he winced to hear. It was at such times he wished he'd never learned the blasted tongue. It had certainly never done him any good. "Father," he whispered so he wouldn't be overheard, bending to his father's side, making himself as unobtrusive as possible.

"Quiet, Legolas. I wish you to find and remain with your sister until this is resolved." Thranduil didn't look up from their prisoner, who was being pulled forward. "Understood?"

"Of course, your highness," Legolas bowed slightly more than usual and left the hall, ignoring the glaring dwarf there as any studious servant would have. Once beyond the confused room, he leaned against the wall with a frown. _Leherim__, where are you?_

_I've brought our dinner to Mirimir's room, of course. Where are you?_

_Long story.__ I'll be there in a moment._ With a shake of his head he cut through the halls until he was at the door to Mirimir's room. "Evening," he called.

"What kept you?"

He hesitated for a moment, then decided. "Dwarves have been spotted in the Woods. One is in the throne room now." 

"Shouldn't you be with Father?"

"Apparently he's in one of his childless moods." 

Mirimir frowned and looked up at him. 

He grinned at her obvious curiosity. "He doesn't want the dwarves to know of us, since a plot could be formed around us. Most, except for other elves, do not even know we exist." He reached for his wine with another smile. "He feels safer that way… feels we are safer."

She frowned and shook her head, looking down at her tray to find something else she could eat. She still wouldn't eat with silverware, no matter how often he and Leherim brought in meals that would normally require them. She would either avoid the food or eat it messily with her fingers, not even bothering with her silverware. 

With a matching frown he caught her chin in his hand, lifting her head so he could see her eyes. "I don't understand you." He shook his head and released her chin, since she had already defeated his intent by tilting her hair into her face. "I rather suspect you enjoy it."

Her washed-out grey eyes peeked through the dark slashes, slight amusement there with her confusion.

"If you would just communicate a little better, maybe I could clear up some of your perpetual confusion."

A faint smile touched her lips before she looked down at her plate. She reached for the bread again.

He sighed and shook his head. He picked up her knife and cut the food, before taking her hand and putting the fork in it. "You should eat more than bread," he insisted softly, demonstrating with his own food.

Hesitantly she looked at the fork in her hand, then turned it so she held it as Leherim had held the dagger the first time he tried to teach her to defend herself. As if she was going to use it to kill a mouse running across the floor. Mirimir stabbed downwards with the utensil, making Legolas wince as the metal scratched across the plate.

With as much hesitation as she had shown at first, he reached out and corrected her grip, helping her spear her first bite of food. She frowned at him, but he'd already studiously turned back to his own meal, taking another bite. 

An audible sigh escaped her, and she carefully lifted the laden fork to her mouth, messily taking the morsel into her mouth. She glared at the plate, then the fork, then the plate again, before throwing him in for good measure, daring any one of them to give her any trouble. 

Hiding a smile he went back to his food again, before glancing at Leherim. 

Her eyes were staring uncomprehendingly at her plate, unaware either of the food or the fact she had eaten little more than a bite. It had been much like that for most of the past decades. She would have happy bursts—when Elrohir's letters came—but otherwise a cloud of misery had surrounded her, one he could not penetrate for more than a few moments. All he could do was share her misery. 

Well, that and convince Father to ask Elrohir and Elladan to visit. 

A hand lightly touched his arm, and he glanced down at it. Close-clipped nails with dirt beneath them, on hands that still showed some wear from whatever she had been through in the past. He lifted his gaze over arms that were still a bit too scrawny, to her eyes, in which he found a gentle pleading as she looked back to Leherim.

With a sigh he shrugged, leaned over and kissed her temple, using the moment to whisper into her ear. "I don't know when, exactly, but soon. Very soon, I hope."

She looked back at Leherim and nodded slowly. Then she walked in her partially-crouched way to get herself some water, the remainder of which was spread about the room, moistening the earth that held a few dozen different plants before she sat down on the bed again and picked up the fork once more. 

The plant they had had in the room before moving her there was still in its place, a beautifully flamboyant plant that had responded to Mirimir's careful care as if she was the sun itself, putting out leaves and flowers anew so rapidly Legolas had begun to fancy he could hear it growing when she went near it. Every few years he and Leherim brought her a new plant, so she now had around fifteen from them. Seeing her fascination with plants, he had shown her the small garden, and she had taken to it, tending and cultivating as if she had been born to tend the plants that emerged from the soil. Small plants that had been choking in their places had been brought to her room, where either he or Leherim eventually found them sitting in something that had a different original purpose, and ended up finding her a more normal pot for such uses. 

The last years had increased her reading ability until she no longer asked for help with words on a regular basis, though he occasionally came in to find her reading one book, with another marked and open, awaiting him. She never spoke, and never murmured in any way that could have been construed as speech. The only thing that kept him from determining she was incapable of speech was knowing no elf had ever before been born incapable of anything so fundamental. Their senses were always intact, and he had no cause to think it would be any different for her speech. 

He had no idea what to do about it, though, except to encourage her however he could to become more and more like an elf… although really, he was still aiming for human level, in some things… like table manners. With a mental sigh he corrected her grip on her fork once more. 

She glared at him and gave it up with a sigh, reaching over to relieve his plate of it's finger-foods. Looking at Leherim was enough to keep him from smiling. She was down again, sad about missing the one elf she couldn't see on a regular basis. With a shake of his head, he gave her a mental nudge.

_Come on, Leherim. Join us for food._

_I'm not hungry any more._

_You haven't eaten anything._

_But I'm not hungry._

She got up and left the room without a word. 

Mirimir bit her lip and frowned, looking up at him questioningly.

"I would love to help her, Mirimir, but I don't know what to do beyond what I've done. How can I even presume to fill his place? I'm her brother, and a friend, but I can never be anything more for her." He sighed and bowed his head, feeling tension nagging behind his eyes and along his neck and shoulders. "If he doesn't come soon, I'll have to ride out and find him myself. If he's not in the same way…" he let off the growl, knowing there was nothing he could really do except keep Elrohir away from Leherim in the future, and that only if she allowed it. He sighed again and closed his eyes.

A light touch on his cheek brought him back to the room he was sitting in, back to the conflicting scent of musty books and blooming flowers. Silver-glinted eyes peered at him for a moment, before her hair slashed in front of her face. 

Tenderly he smiled at her and tucked her hair behind an ear, glad she had let it grow long enough he could do that much with it. He caught her chin in his palm again, and kissed her forehead as he rose. "Father should be done interrogating the dwarf by now. He'll probably want me to do something or other. I'll see you at breakfast. Shall I close the door?"

Mirimir's ear tips glowed rosy, but she shook her head.

"We gave you a tour for a reason. You are welcome wherever you like, with the exception of guarded rooms, of course." 

Mirimir had been sneaking out of her room at night for nearly fifteen years. He had only once caught her at it, and she had been slipping quietly back into the library after having apparently locked the door to her room that opened from the hall. No one else had ever seen her at it, but he had been to her room at times when she wasn't in it—late night good nights, when she'd already gone exploring.

"Since you can read, perhaps you should learn to write. I'm sure there's a lot you could write down."

She sent him a look he couldn't quite interpret, and he backed out with not a word more on the subject. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	11. Elladan and Jealousy

The last chapter was about forty or so years from the time Elrohir left. 

Mirimir is more or less fine with Legolas… though still wary of anyone else. As far as they know, she has never spoken, and is incapable of speech. 

I'm glad you don't think Mirimir is a Mary-Sue. I think every writer probably writes at least one that is sort of Sueish… and mine is unfortunately still posted, though a new review or positive comment pops up about it from time to time, so I probably won't ever remove it, though I cringe sometimes at some of the things I wrote. Thankfully, I've learned more about the characters and how to write cohesively. By the end of this story, hopefully all questions will be answered (and if not, I'll change things around until they are.).

What exactly is 'purple prose'? I write because I enjoy it… so if that's an English term or something, I'm utterly clueless (rather obviously, since I've asked.)

Maybe The Worry Stone is starting to influence my other stories in progress… this is a rather short chapter, for this story, anyway. Hopefully it won't happen often.

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Relief flooded through Legolas when he saw the grey-eyed and dark-haired elf from Imladris. Looking at him, the elf smiled a polite hello. 

"It is about time you arrived, Elladan," Legolas murmured. "Where is Elrohir?"

Elladan lifted a brow. "A new skill, Legolas?" he asked, as very few could ever tell them apart, especially when they had not been seen in several years.

"An old one put to use in a new way," he dismissed the comment, not caring to spell out how he knew which twin he was speaking to. He lifted a brow instead, silently reiterating his previous question.

"He headed off once we got here, mumbling something about a gar—Legolas?"

Legolas closed his eyes and slowly smiled. "He has found her."

"He… how… oh, never mind. Where are we to sleep? I am ready to rest for about an age."

"I hear things have been interesting in Imladris in recent years. A mortal, I believe?"

"Ah, yes, Estel. He's headed off to the wild, now. Joined the Rangers. Things have been quieter since, but Father and Gandalf always seem to be doing something. Not long ago Gandalf arrived with thirteen dwarves and a hobbit! Hard to imagine, him bringing so many dwarves to Imladris, even if it is known as the Last something or other to travelers."

"Thirteen, you say?" Legolas asked, lifting a brow as he slowed their journey down a hall. "Hard to imagine," he agreed, his brows knitting as his voice dropped to a growl. He would have to speak with Father. Perhaps this would help soothe the ruffled feathers caused by the grand escape. Of course, Mithrandir would have some explaining to do next time he showed up. "You two took longer than expected."

"Yes, Father detained us for a time. Truthfully, I think he was testing Elrohir."

"And?"

"And, I believe he shall arrive soon enough with Arwen, assuming things will go well here."

"She has a temper, but has missed him enough it won't matter."

"A bit of spirit is a good thing. Nice to know she hasn't lost what she gained in Imladris," Elladan murmured slyly, glancing at Legolas out of the corner of his eye.

"Unfortunately she has not," he agreed without missing a beat. "She still seems to like dwarves." With that Legolas left Elladan outside the rooms he and Elrohir would be sharing, and walked quickly to Mirimir's room. "Mirimir?" he called once inside, feeling the room was empty. 

She came in from the library, her arms full of books which she dumped on the bed before taking one to a chair. She looked at him questioningly when she was settled and he still hadn't spoken.

"Elladan and Elrohir are here. All things considered, I came to warn you you probably won't see too much of us for a day or two. Things are going to be rather hectic." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'll be able to worm free by tomorrow evening, no doubt, but Leherim… you know how she got last time Elrohir was here." With a faint sigh he reached out and fingered a velvety leaf from her original plant. "They're pretty good company," he mused after a while, "and I suppose I should get used to them, since everyone involved in this mess who can look at the thing objectively thinks the Wood will soon be united with Imladris. Elrond's even arranged to bring Arwen here for the marriage, without Elrohir having spoken to Leherim, or Father, for that matter." 

A faint sound made him turn his head to look at her. She was frowning lightly at him, in what he took to be reproach.

"So they'll be family. So what? Does that give them the right to… mess things up. Huh." He dropped down onto the bed and lifted a hand to his forehead, unaware of Mirimir just then. "Damn it all, she was right. I am jealous. Elrohir's stealing away my sister, and leaving me with nothing but her shadow, and memories of what I once had." He shook his head in annoyance, entirely self-directed. "No wonder I was making excuses not to be around them. They're ending all I've known."

He got up and absently glanced at Mirimir. "I should go… think things out," he murmured, motioning vaguely before he walked out. 

Mirimir looked after him for a long moment, then turned her book around the right way and began reading.


	12. Good night

Thanks to all who reviewed! More normal chapter for you… though there is a bit of a jump forward. If you think it's sick, REREAD the first few lines. I'm not that sick. (Despite being hospitalized for most of the past week. Not mental problems, honest.)

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"What's the matter?" 

Leherim smiled slightly as loving arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her gently back against a firm body. A light kiss was dropped to her shoulder, then her neck, then the slightest brush behind her ear before she considered telling him to behave… for a half second, after which she dismissed the thought. 

"Love?"

She sighed and rested her hands over his. "Legolas."

"What about him?"

"As long as I can remember we've had a connection of sorts."

"Yes," he prompted softly when she trailed off.

"Well, ever since you left… I've kind of gone quiet. I never really confided in him about this like I used to about anything and everything. I know it's been hurting him, but he won't say anything. He might not even admit it, now."

"Why wouldn't he, if you want to still be close—"

"We'll always have that bond, Elrohir. Nothing can change that simple reality. But the deep loving friendship may be slipping away, out of reach."

"Not if you don't want it to," he countered, holding her tightly. Slowly he released her. "You two have something special. You can't let it go without a fight."

"Are you sure you want me to fight?"

"Why wouldn't I? It's a part of you."

"It has been," she agreed, struggling to put her concerns into words. "Which has made me a part of him, and him a part of me. We've never been truly separate… Can you stand knowing that a male who isn't you is so close to me?"

"I knew that when I grew to love you, Lee, and it hasn't changed. You should speak with him on this. Soon. As in now."

"Now? Tonight of all nights?"

"Do you want to head into tonight worrying about your relationship with your brother? Without the blessing I think you felt you had a reason not to ask him for? I may not have the same connection you two do, but I saw his eyes darken when you didn't speak with him, and how you ignored his attempt to reach you. Go speak with him."

Leherim bowed her head and slowly nodded. "It may be a while."

"We have a month alone, guaranteed. Take whatever time you two need. You've been brooding over this for a while now… and I think he has as well."

Slowly she nodded. "Probably."

"You mean you don't know?"

Pain slashed through her at her husband's words, and she bit her lip. How had she let things go so far that she didn't even know for certain how Legolas felt about her marriage, even? She hadn't asked, hadn't checked his emotions for fear of what she'd find because she hadn't asked, and because she hadn't confided in him. It was time… past time, for her to do both. 

Without a word she left her childhood room and swept through the sitting rooms until she was in Legolas's room. He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling with one arm resting over his eyes. He'd apparently just fallen back in exhaustion, seeing as how his tunic and shirt were lying dully on the floor near his dress cape, his belt with his dagger dropped carelessly, one boot off as the other hung from his foot, limply dangled off the edge of the bed. 

Her shoulders drooped—she'd only seen him so exhausted when emotions were taking a toll on him, which almost always had to do with her, somehow. The red-hot knives churned in her gut again, and she gently reached out and tugged his other dress boot off, letting it fall with its mate before she moved to sit at his side. 

She lightly reached out and moved his arm—he was so dead asleep it fell where she let it go without making him stir in the slightest. The small temple braids he'd worn for her ceremony were the only orderly parts of his hair. The rest had mostly escaped the chord he'd tied at the back of his neck when the slightly more relaxed style had been acceptable. 

Looking at him, she could see small lines of pain and strain drawn around his mouth and eyes, lines that could take several happy years to smooth away once more. The chain about his neck was lying crookedly, and she absently reached over his shoulder to pick the pendant off of the pillow, intending to replace it against his chest. 

Like a strike of lightning his hand closed around hers tightly, his grip firm but not painful as he blinked a few times, waking up. He recognized her with a frown, releasing her hand. "What are you doing here? Tonight, of all nights?"

She looked down at the pendant, the small stones set in the pattern of their house—he had joked once it was his collar, his badge of ownership, that which marked him of the Royal House of Mirkwood. Her own necklace had been set aside, and a jewel from Imladris now hung about her neck in the same fashion—the strands to their necklaces were very easy to miss, unless one was looking for them, so they went virtually unnoticed, covered by everyday clothing until having them on became as normal and mundane as their titles had. But hers had changed. 

And it made it all so obvious.

"I'm sorry, Legolas."

"For what?" he asked with a soft frown.

Now that everything was all right in her world again, she noticed the soft darkening of his eyes that indicated he could easily think of something she could be apologizing for. "Every last thing… Starting when I went to Elrohir for fighting lessons instead of you."

"That was _my_ suggestion," he murmured dryly, sitting up.

"But it was _our_ tradition. I should have stuck by it, or at least included you more than I did… when he was here, and when he left. It hurt to think about him, and… I somehow felt if I didn't talk about it, even to you, maybe it would hurt less."

"Did it work?"

"No," she murmured miserably. "All it did was lose me my best friend."

He sighed softly and shook his head, running a hand through his hair, removing the chord altogether, letting his hair fall absently around his shoulders. "You haven't lost me, Leherim."

She bit her lip at his weary tone. "Haven't I?" He just looked at her. "Why didn't you hug me, then? Why call me Leherim instead of dear one, or little one, or sister dear?"

He closed his eyes for a moment. "Leherim, you're married now. You're not my little sister anymore. You aren't my dear one, my little one. You're Elrohir's now. I highly doubt he'd enjoy sharing you, even with your brother."

"Then why did he send me here to make things right, if I could? I've missed you, even though it was entirely my own fault."

He shook his head. "Leherim—"

"Legolas, please. I know it's hurt you, what I've done, but it's hurt me too. Please—" She bit her lip as tears came to her eyes. She was loosing her brother, and she could think of nothing to say to stop it. _Please._

He turned his head slightly, looking at the pattern of the coverlet on the bed, and she felt as if she'd been struck. Shaking, she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She felt numb as she began rocking slowly, trying to comfort herself. She'd never had to do that before.

When she thought her heart would surely break, and the tears clawing behind her eyes would be released, she felt a light touch on her arm. Looking over, she saw nearly black eyes watching her, torment written as plainly there as in the quick burst of emotion he sent her. She searched his face desperately, and threw herself into his embrace when he opened his arms for her. 

_Promise me,_ she whispered softly, _promise me we'll make this right somehow._

_I think we're well on our way, sister dear._ He kissed her crown. _But you should get back to your husband now. Not nice to make him wait like this on his wedding night._

She let out a short laugh through her tears. "Legolas?" she asked softly, biting back her lingering tears. She pulled back to see his face, and forced a small, watery smile when his large hands framed her face and brushed gently at her tears.

"Hmm?"

"What do you think of me marrying Elrohir?"

"It's a bit late to be asking, don't you think?"

Slowly she shook her head. "No."

He shook his right back at her. "You know that's not true. You love him, and dissolving things now would only cause grief."

"Would you want me to?"

"I would never want you hurt," he protested, eyes darkening again.

"But what do you think?"

He sighed softly. "I think as long as you're happy—" he broke off when she glared at him, and smiled gently. "Okay, okay. I've always kind of thought Elrohir and Elladan as a little too serious. They act more like princes than I do, and I have the damned title. Still, stuffiness aside, I know they're both good elves, kind and honest, extremely trustworthy. So although I may personally have enjoyed it a bit more if a new addition to the family had a bit more spirit, there is certainly nothing objectionable about him. Except maybe the whole part where he thinks I'm letting my baby sister spend the rest of her time in Imladris."

She rolled her eyes with a true smile. "Legolas," she complained.

He sobered. "I'm not saying I'll try and stop him from taking you there. It's safer there, with Elrond's power and their more stable connections with the Golden Wood, but I'm not letting him carry you off without visiting more often than makes sense, since we can talk whenever we like."

"And why shouldn't we stay here?"

"As I said, it's safer there."

"What of when the danger has passed, then?"

"By then I doubt it will matter. With the constant removal to the undying lands, there will soon enough be no elves left on these shores. We shall all be together in the West."

"Then it would be fine if we stayed here until then, as there will be a reunion with his family fairly soon."

"Or the other way around. Elrohir hasn't the same connection with his twin as we have. Would you force him away from his twin? From his sister? His father?" 

She bit her lip with a frown. "I hadn't thought about it like that. But I don't want to leave here. What about Father? And Mirimir? And everyone else?" _What about you?_

"You'll always have me, dear one, as long as there is life within me. Your friends will understand, and know that soon we shall all be in the West, without separation. As for Mirimir… I cannot say. I shall remain here, for the most part, and the kitchen staff has their standing orders about meals, now. Whenever you visit, I'm sure she would be very glad to have you drop by."

Leherim sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I feel as if there's something more I should have done for her."

"She lives," he murmured, "and she begins to realize she is an elf. Her walk is slowly progressing, though she resorts to crouching for speed and when she slinks." He lifted her head and set her slightly from him. "She begins to shine," he assured her. 

"Then I can leave her in your hands."

"I count her a friend," he agreed softly, though his eyes darkened slightly. "You should go… and try not to contact me."

She blushed to the tips of her toes, and nodded quickly as she rose. "I'll do my best… but you may want to go back to sleep, anyway."

"I'll try to lock it off before I do," he added with a grimace. "I still don't want to know if that sort of thing can be passed along."

"It would be too weird," she agreed. "But you've always managed…"

"I've always had slightly better control over it than you have. It's easier to stop myself from sending than it is to stop myself from receiving." With a quick shake of his head he got up, resting his hands on her shoulders. "Be happy, whatever happens, and know that I will always love you, dear sister."

"Have you gone soft?" she teased, hugging him tightly. "Whatever will your troop say?"

"Nothing, cause they will never know. I'm only soft when it comes to you."

"And Mirimir?"

He frowned at her words. "Interesting idea. Why would you think that?" 

"You try to help her, sometimes to the exclusion of all else. I rather think you would defend her as you would me."

"If by defend, you mean against unwanted attentions, I would do that with any female who hadn't been purposely provoking the attention… and even then, though I'd make sure she knew it was her own fault."

She made an unconvinced noise but felt Elrohir growing a bit restless. "One last thing, Legolas…"

Hearing her hesitation, he took her hands and tilted his head.

"Elrohir and I…"

"What?"

_We can almost speak like this. It's more like a—_

_Whisper?_

"Yes," she agreed, startled. "How—"

"That's how we began, Leherim. A soft murmur with more feeling than words." He frowned slightly. "Perhaps in time, you can develop it with him, as well."

"Will it cut this off with you?"

"I wouldn't expect so. After all, it was choice alone that closed down the link for a time."

She sighed. "I know."

"Hey," he murmured, tilting her head up.

"Is what horses eat." At his somewhat annoyed grimace, she smiled. "I couldn't resist. Sorry."

"Anyway," he grumbled. "Perhaps eventually the three of us will all be linked to each other."

"Would that be a good thing?"

"Of course."

"How so?" She could think of several reasons why she would not want her husband and her brother linked.

"He and I can swap Leherim stories, of course, without having to leave you alone somewhere without the benefit of our gracious company."

"Gracious indeed," she muttered, pulling back with a shake of her head. _Talk to you later, Legolas._

_Good night._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	13. Awakened

Hey, all.

There will be only one more update for this story before break, and that's only if I break from cramming for finals to work on it/ post it. I probably will… 

 Yep, Leherim and Elrohir are married, and Legolas is getting emotions from somewhere…

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Legolas woke with a jerk, closing his eyes as he fought to control the blood thundering through him, sweat dripping though his hair. After a moment, he realized the emotions of his dream had not been what he would have expected if he was picking up things from Leherim. 

With a shake of his head he leaned back, opening his eyes to stare blindly at the ceiling as he thought about things. Every night since Leherim and Elrohir had been married he'd woke for no reason he could discern. This was the only time emotions had flickered into his wakeful mind, and only in the faintest of traces which told him it was nothing positive. 

What was going on?

With a sigh he tried to relax, consciously loosening his taunt muscles one by one until he was lying limply on the bed, knowing sleep would be elusive for a while. 

Just as he felt he might be able to sleep, a powerful surge of emotions slammed through him. He bolted to his feet, shaking all over as he recognized terror, pain, anguish, and despair. Breathing rapidly he stormed into the room Leherim was sharing with Elrohir.

He stopped dead when Leherim blinked at him sleepily. "Legolas?"

"Whaz goin on?" Elrohir mumbled, half lifting his face from the pillow before he gave up with a groan. "Nev min. Go 'way."

In another situation, Legolas might have been forced to hide a smile at hearing the meticulous Elrond's son speaking so, but not now. "Leherim?" he asked softly.

She sat up at his voice, frowning when she looked at him. "You look like you've come through a war," she murmured with a frown. Unaware of her nudity she stood and moved to him. "What is it?"

He closed his eyes and tried to still the other things buffeting him long enough to check her emotions… and found nothing but contentment and love, with a large amount of concern for him. Unable to express it any other way, he reached out and set his hands on her shoulders, sending her a tempered version of the jolt he'd received. 

She gasped and trembled, backing from his touch before returning as she lifted a hand to his cheek. "Legolas?" she asked with a frown, looking up at him with haunted eyes. "What… Who?"

"I don't know. It's been waking me up, whatever—" his hands tightened as another blast shook him, not fading away.

"Follow it," Leherim instructed. She reached out to a chair and tossed him the tunic there, which he pulled on without question, though it was tailored a bit too small for him. He left the fastenings loose. "You have to."

He nodded. "Yes," he agreed, slowly leaving the room. 

As confused as he could ever remember being, he followed the emotions as he usually did when he wanted to find Leherim without asking her where she was. As he stood outside a door, sure the source of the emotions blasting him were from within, he opened his eyes and blinked in shock. 

"This can't be right," he murmured, but before he could decide what to do a soft sob reached his sensitive ears through the door. Hesitating a moment longer, he moved, opening the door as quietly as he could.

Even so, the huddled figure on the bed jerked around to face him, a sob cutting off. She took a deep breath and watched him warily.

"What's wrong, little one?" he asked softly, moving to the bed. She cowered away from him, flinched when he moved to touch her. "Can you hear me?" he asked, seeing her eyes still haunted from whatever dream she'd been having. He slowly eased himself down beside her, noticing how she shook. Gently he drew her into his arms, trying to use the connection to send her reassurance of her safety, to assure her he wouldn't hurt her, or let anyone else do so. 

"It's all right," he murmured softly. "Just a dream." 

Her trembling subsided, her soft sobs giving way to hiccupping tears before she shuddered and relaxed, her eyes going glassy. 

With a relieved sigh he relaxed against her. _It will be all right,_ he murmured again. 

_Who are you telling, Legolas?_

He smiled faintly at Leherim's voice, but the loss of rest for the last nights caught up with him, making him incapable of caring that he left her without an answer.


	14. Off to save the world

Leherim smiled to herself as she walked confidently through the halls of the palace. Imladris was truly beautiful, but she had missed the place of her birth. Now, things with Mithrandir had become rather important, so Elrohir and Legolas had argued together to send her back here until things were settled. 

Elrond hadn't wished to let her go, but after Legolas mentioned their father, he had caved in, understanding that the king would want to see his daughter. Soon Legolas would return from Imladris, and they would be as they always had been again. Of course, Elrohir wouldn't be with them. He'd gone off to be with Estel in the wilds, again, with Elladan. 

The only thing that kept her from being a bit annoyed about it was knowing he viewed Estel as his brother, and felt he could use the twins with him now and again. With his understanding for the often interruptions Legolas caused, she couldn't say anything against his absences, from time to time. 

She could be a bit annoyed about his treachery, though she loved the results. Mithrandir had brought Gollum to the elven kingdom, and Legolas had filled her in, his voice bitter as he spoke of the creature. He hadn't told her of the creature's escape, nor of his subsequent journey to Imladris. The news had come by messenger—a rare event, since more often any messages between the two elven realms could be passed through her and Legolas. 

Still, seeing him, hearing his voice with her ears instead of in her head, feeling his arms come around her as he swung her around, all had been enough for her to forgive them the small deception. 

With a smile she looked around the rooms she had played in as a girl, seeing thousands of ghost memories of herself and Legolas, and a few much less clear ones of their mother. She knocked lightly on a door, opening it without waiting for a reply. "Hello, Mirimir," she murmured, before shock held her silent. 

Such a change! Mirimir's hair was still short, her form a bit too thin, but a soft glow was exuded by her as it should be by any elf, along with a faint confidence in her place, backed by eyes which now shown lightly with silver, instead of plain washed out grey. 

"You look wonderful," she breathed, before looking around the room. She laughed. "And I've stepped into a garden!" 

Mirimir smiled slightly and tilted her head at Leherim, before moving over to face her squarely. Her steps were still not quite up to normal human bipedal standards, much less the careful grace of the elves, but it was a drastic change from when Leherim had last seen her. She reached a hand up and touched Leherim's cheek, startling her terribly.

"Legolas told me you were doing well… he just didn't tell me you were this well!"

Mirimir smiled at her and looked around, walking unevenly to the bathroom to refill the water pitcher she had been using when Leherim entered. 

"I suppose you've probably mostly gone through the library by now," she murmured softly, seeking anything to say. "Has Legolas shown you the others?"

Mirimir nodded with a faint smile.

"Well, that's good. And he took you to the other gardens, as well?"

Another slight nod.

"Well. I don't know anything to say, really. Would you allow me to eat with you, anyway? It's been a long time since I haven't had to deal with sitting at a table full of elves to eat. Elrond is a bit of a stiff old elf, when it comes to courtly procedure. He was probably shocked when he found out Legolas and I are more comfortable doing for ourselves. Doesn't really fit in with his idea of the proper behavior for royal bloods." 

Encouraged by the slight nod she'd gotten from Mirimir, Leherim got their trays and returned, glad for someone to talk to, even if it was a more or less one way conversation. Still, Mirimir was responding a lot more than Leherim had ever seen. 

"I think Legolas should be home soon, and what a time we'll have!" She watched as Mirimir ate daintily with her silverware, and smiled as she recalled the first day Legolas had given her a fork and insisted she use it. "You have done quite well with those. You eat more neatly than Estel, or Elladan, for that matter!"

Mirimir smiled at the tease, her eyes sparkling with silvery lights. 

"You know, if you would just learn to walk truly upright, you could pass as any lady of the court now, I bet." She grinned. "How about it? Maybe we could shock Legolas when he gets back!"

Mirimir bit her lip with a light frown, staring at her plate for a long moment.

"What is it?" Leherim asked softly. "Do you not want to learn to walk as elves are meant to? You are an elf, and a rather beautiful one. You have no reason to hide in here any more."

Mirimir smiled faintly and looked at Leherim for a moment. Then she touched her temples lightly.

"What?" Leherim frowned. "You have a headache?"

Mirimir frowned, tapping her temples before touching Leherim's chest, pressing the metal of her pendant into the skin. 

"What…" Leherim trailed off, trying to put it together. Temples and Imladris? There were no temples there… After a brief moment, an odd thought struck her. How did Mirimir know about her pendant? Where it would hang?

Because of Legolas's? 

There _was_ an odd thought. So, Mirimir had seen Legolas without his shirt?

Perhaps not, even if she did know of the pendant because of Legolas. Sometimes when he was overworked from something or other he would start to open his shirt to bathe and then go to do something he'd forgotten in his haste to get clean. He'd caused a stir among the ladies of the halls a few times that way, when he'd sought her out for something while almost half unclothed. So it wasn't entirely inconceivable that Mirimir had seen it that way, though with how jumpy she had been of all males at first, Leherim didn't suppose he would have allowed that absent-mindedness around her. 

Anyway, back to the puzzle. Okay, a pendant and temples, and Legolas…

"You want me to talk to Legolas?" she asked.

Slowly Mirimir nodded, slight hesitation in the move.

With a shrug Leherim closed her eyes. _Legolas__?_

Fuzziness greeted her for a long moment, before she felt him groping towards her. _Leherim__?_

_Yeah. What's going on?_ She could feel his determination, as well as sorrow as she opened her eyes, seeing without noticing the table before her. 

_The ring of power has been found._

She gasped, her eyes widening in fear. _What? No!_

_I'm afraid it has,_ he answered wearily. _A fellowship is being formed to assist the ring-bearer in its destruction._

Her heart stopped for a long moment. _So you'll be home soon, right?_

Silence.

_Legolas__!_

_I am to represent elves._

Her breath came in short gasps. _No._

_I am most able to assist them, Leherim. There are not more than fifty elves born at such a time to be of a good age for this, young enough to agree to work with children but old enough to know they will be childish despite the quest. Of those, there are few who are not married, and none would ask any to leave behind a wife or children. Of those few, I am the only one with the training in the skills that shall prove most valuable on this quest. You know I speak the truth._

_Will you return?_

_If I can, you needn't ask._

She wanted to pummel him, plead with him, cry on his shoulder to let someone else go… But she was in Mirkwood, and he was in Imladris. Funny things had been reversed so quickly. She would have done her best not to do those things even if she was with him, but she did have something she wanted to do. She closed her eyes.

_Hey!_

_You deserve it! Thank him for me, would you? It's still rather an unstable connection, especially with this distance and how upset I am._

She felt him sigh, and he was absent for a moment, conveying her thanks to Elrohir for hitting him. _That was one of the weirdest things you have ever had me do,_ he grumbled at her. 

_You will be careful?_

_Of course. I'll be with Mithrandir and your dear little brother Estel._

_I want you back safely. They can take care of themselves._

His sigh came across again. _Leherim__—_

_Oh, don't bother. And would you stop sighing, already? You sound like an old woman._

He chuckled softly. _I love you. Would you tell Father and Mirimir?_

_Of course,_ she agreed with a sigh.

_Now, don't you start!_

She managed a weak laugh, before opening her eyes as a tear slipped out. Mirimir was watching her quietly, a gentle sympathy in her eyes. "Legolas has…" She took a deep breath and began again. "Have you read anything of the history of the elves?"

Mirimir nodded.

"Then you have heard of the one ring, the ring of power that was created in Mordor?"

Mirimir nodded once more, a frown drawing her dark brows together delicately. 

"It has been found."

Mirimir's eyes widened and her ears pulled back slightly. Her lips parted and a small sound escaped her, before she clamped her hands over her mouth. She shook her head.

"You are quicker than I was," Leherim admitted ruefully. "Legolas has joined the Fellowship. He will help destroy the ring." She heaved a weary sigh. "It is a very dangerous mission, and so much could go wrong. I… I know he is very capable of taking care of himself… He's had to be. He's become one of the most boasted about accomplishments of the trainers, having surpassed them in many forms of warfare, but I still worry about him. Even with all his strength and training he is not invincible."

For a long moment the room was so silent Leherim fancied she could hear pages being turned in the library. 

"I must tell Father. He will not take this news well." Knowing that was an understatement didn't make it any easier. 

She found her father in his rooms, preparing to go down for dinner. She stopped him, told him what was happening, and then relayed conversation from Legolas to him and back again until he sent her from the room, after asking her to inform the servants he would not be down for dinner. 

Feeling the world collapse around her, she found a small hidden cove and huddled against the wall there, wrapping her arms around her knees. One good thing had come from her time in Imladris without Elrohir. She'd gotten to know Arwen, recently, and she had learned to comfort herself, when she had to. 

Which didn't mean she wasn't just as glad when someone sat down beside her and took her hand, resting lightly against her side, offering comfort from the most unexpected source.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Well… no, Mirimir has obviously not spoken to anyone yet. And who said it was Mirimir's door Legolas was outside? 

As for how long it's been, obviously the fellowship has just been formed, so several years have gone by.

I have some more written, but I won't finish it to get up before break, so you're all stuck with this until early Jan. 

FarFlung: Does this count as an evil cliffie? 


	15. A vision?

I'm afraid I can't read my own writing and figure out if it's a cliffhanger or not. Sorry. Anyway, I'm back… on the 5th, in case fanfiction.net won't let my upload yet. I got the notice that my initial chapters had been removed because of a rule they imposed after I went on break, so I didn't even know about it until they said I wouldn't be able to upload for a while. I had trouble with my computer, so this is it for now.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Legolas closed his eyes with a faint smile. It felt good to be coming home, even if his heart longed to know what was hidden in the sound of the sea. He would remain on these shores for a while, and then he would join those before him who had sailed into the West. 

Elrohir was with him, more than eager to see his wife. They both could feel her excitement, though he could catch it much more easily. She would be waiting for them, her arms around whichever one was through the gate first, then the other. After greeting her, he would head off to see their father.

With another slight smile he admitted to himself that his father would be overjoyed to have him home, no matter what he actually said or did. He had been understandably angry and pained at first, but Leherim had assured him that had slowed to a simple worry, which was the best he could hope for, under the circumstances. 

His eager haste to return home had him on the ground first, and his sister's arms flew around his neck. He breathed her in with a soft sigh, holding her tightly. How many times had he been tempted to speak with her, just to reassure himself there were things proceeding normally somewhere. He hadn't wished to worry her, though, and that took precedence when he decided when or if he should talk to her. He'd often felt her waiting anxiously for word, but she knew not to contact him, since the slight distraction could well have proven deadly. 

Elrohir cleared his throat, so Legolas held her tighter for a moment, kissing her temple before releasing her. All the way to the throne room he was stopped and welcomed home. There were the bustling makings of a grand feast everywhere he looked, so it wasn't too hard to slip unnoticed into his father's study, where his father typically was when such a fuss was being made in the great hall. 

His father stood without a word and embraced him. Legolas closed his eyes in relief. 

"Welcome home, son." Thranduil's voice was a bit rough. "You've been missed."

"Thank you, Father. I have missed it here," he admitted. 

His father's eyes twinkled. "Ready to be a Prince, once more?"

"Never that," Legolas denied with a smile. "The son of a king, I can handle, but a Prince? Perish the thought."

Thranduil chuckled heartily. "Well, there's to be a feast, of course, since Leherim told us you were both coming by dusk. All things considered, Elrond has agreed they shall spend their remaining time here… which won't be long."

"No," Legolas agreed with a sigh. "It will also not be long before I follow. I have heard the sea… and it is unsettling. I am glad to be back, but now there is something always missing, always questioned, in the back of my mind." 

Thranduil sighed softly, but nodded. "I shall not remain here forever, either. In a short time, especially with my children gone, the elves of Greenwood shall be left to fend for themselves or cross to the Undying Lands." He rested a hand on Legolas's shoulder, and guided him over to his chair. "Now, I know you will be called upon to explain the whole quest during the celebration of your return, but I wish to know things that you shall leave out."

Legolas laughed softly and launched into his tale, speaking of Gimli and the odd friendship they had formed, and of Fangorn, both things he was sure he would limit his speech of when asked questions by the elves that night.

He had certainly been right about that, and as they digested the story and fell to song, he was rather glad to step unnoticed into one of the gardens. As long as he didn't look up, he could almost make himself believe he was outside. The ceiling was high and far away, but his eyes had always found it too easily. Soft light illuminated the garden as if made by stars and the shimmering reflection caught in water and the elves themselves, just as the light of their beloved stars would. 

A slight smile tilted his lips as he felt the peace that pervaded the garden. His thoughts began wandering to Lothlorien, before he sensed someone behind him. 

Turning, he found himself faced with a vision of beauty. Dark hair swept partially back, decorated with small silver flowers and dark green leaves, her skin glowed with the loving light around them, her eyes glittering like stars. He compared her to Arwen, and found he preferred the elf before him. How much of that had to do with the worry and pain that had diminished the Evenstar and how much was circumstance—Arwen was taken and with Aragorn, this elf was probably unattached and here—he couldn't say. The she-elf was almost perfectly eye-level with him, her chin set firmly without being stubborn, though now lowered. Whether in respect, a display of modesty, or amusement, he couldn't begin to guess.

He swallowed carefully. "Hello," he breathed.

A faint smile twisted her lips, and her silver-tipped lashes swept down to hide her eyes.

"Legolas?" Leherim called from the halls. _Where are you?_

"I'm in the garden," he called. When he turned back, the elf was gone. He spun around, but found no trace of her, nor even anything to assure him he had actually seen her. With a sigh he moved towards Leherim's voice, wondering if it was another trick, something left over from the quest. A last remnant of the ring's power, perhaps, or maybe it was just his longing for the sea manifesting itself in a vision he could accept desiring. At any rate, it seemed he had dreamed the she-elf up. 

Still, she-elves had found their way into his mind, so as one approached him he found himself more disposed to speaking with her than he normally would. 

"Good evening, my lord," she murmured, bowing her head demurely. "Have you found your home as you remembered it?"

"I do not recall you," he admitted softly, taking the wine glass passed to him by a servant. 

"I was with family in Imladris for many years. They have chosen to go to the West, so I have been sent back to my parents until all must remove from these shores."

"It will not be long."

"Long in the way of humans, or elves?" she asked, a faint frown appearing between her fine blond brows. 

"Of elves. I've no doubt several generations of most men shall come and pass before all the elves leave, but by the ways of elves, it will not be long at all."

She sighed softly and looked at the dancing couples. "It is a dreary thought," she murmured quietly. "Perhaps a dance would chase it away?"

Usually Legolas would shrug off any such invitation, but it had been a while since he had participated in the festivities of a feast in the Wood, and longer since he had consumed as much of their wine as he had that evening. All things considered, he was more disposed to female company than usual, and allowed his arm to be taken. 


	16. Lady Eiectorm

_Legolas?_

He shook his head slightly and tucked his head deeper into the pillows. 

_Legolas, wake up._

He blinked sluggishly, his limbs feeling heavy. _What?_

_Wake up. It's almost __noon__, and while Father understands you might need some time to rest, lunch will be pressing the issue._

He frowned and forced himself to sit up. _Are you sure it's almost __noon__? I feel like I haven't slept in a week._

Her voice was softer when she responded. _I'm sorry to tell you, then, but yes, I'm sure. You need to get down here, and then you can take a nap until dinner if you wish._

With a sigh he ran a hand through his hair and forced himself to his feet. He was so sluggish it felt as if he had fought all the cursed Uruk-hai to ever step foot on Middle-Earth and then fallen into bed, only to be woken just after he finally got his eyes truly to head into dreams. Fighting with the urge to fall into bed again he got dressed, and dragged himself into the great hall for lunch. 

After a while, he stopped one of the passing elves. "Where is Leherim?"

"She is in Mirimir's room for lunch, I shouldn't wonder, my lord."

Mirimir. Legolas thanked the elf and rose to his feet, after nodding at his father. Quickly he walked down the halls, until he was before Mirimir's room. He could feel her there, so he opened it without knocking. "Now, why wasn't I invited?"

"Your duty was to show up at the hall today," Leherim stated quietly. 

He shrugged and picked up a piece of the bread lying untouched on the edge of Mirimir's tray. "And I did. And now my time's my own… at least until dinner, at which time you are undoubtedly required… if not by your father, then by your husband, true?"

"Very," Leherim agreed with a soft sigh. "But it's much more peaceful here."

Legolas smiled softly, looking over at Mirimir. She glanced over her shoulder at him, her dark hair slashing over her face. She lifted a hand and lightly brushed it out of the way, tucking the short strands behind her ear. Several promptly fell again. "Your plants have done well," he murmured softly. 

She looked at him for a long moment, then smiled faintly and bowed her head. Pleasure and relief came through to him. 

Standing so close to his sister, he couldn't tell from which one it came. "Have you come to eat in the great hall yet?" he asked Mirimir, touching one of the velvety leaves of her largest plant. 

She shook her head, and the blast of misgivings he got was obviously from her. 

"It's all right, you don't have to," he assured her, sending calm through the connection as best he could. 

A faint smile played across her lips as she closed her eyes, the tension leaving her shoulders. A soft 'thank you' was in her eyes when she opened them. 

He bowed his head slightly and looked around the room of plants, smiling at the evidence of her one hobby—besides reading everything in the library. "What's this?" he asked, picking up a piece of parchment. A small flower was drawn on it. "Mirimir?"

Her ear tips blushed and she drew her knees to her chest. 

"It's quite beautiful," he praised softly, smiling faintly as the blush spread to her cheeks. "Leherim?" he asked with a frown when his sister frowned, her eyes going glassy. 

"Elrohir," she explained softly, her eyes focusing though her frown remained. "You must excuse me," she murmured softly.

With a faint frown lingering Legolas watched her walk quickly from the room, her gown sweeping out behind her. He gave a mental shrug and turned back to Mirimir, only to find she'd moved to the chair beside the shelf and was curling her legs beneath her. He set the paper aside and settled himself on her bed, watching her for a moment. Slowly he smiled. _Did you go hear the story of my travels?_

Her grey eyes lifted, the blush lingering for a moment before she nodded. 

"Would you care to hear what I left out of the mass telling?"

Her eyes shot to his and her lips parted, before she gave a quick nod and settled herself so she was delicately poised on the edge of her chair, listening eagerly, looking so like elf-children did when they listened to Gandalf that he couldn't help but smile as he began his tale. She seemed utterly fascinated by anything that had to do with other species, often reaching out her hand to touch the back of his, telling him without forming words—even in their minds—to go back, and explain more carefully. 

In the middle of explaining a teasing competition between himself and Gimli—

_Legolas!_

_Could this wait just a minute?_

_No! Get down to the great hall this instant!_

_Why?_

_Does dinner sound familiar to you? The Wood just got its prince back, and they're in no hurry to allow you a night of peace. Wherever you are, stop what you're doing, and get down here!_

With a sigh he ran a hand through his hair. Annoyance flickered through him for an instant. 

Mirimir touched the back of his hand, tilting her head at him, confusion coming through the contact. 

He smiled faintly, and shook his head. "It is apparently time for me to temporarily take my leave. I am required at dinner in the great hall." He bowed his head to her and got up, turning to go to the hall, when he felt her hesitation.

He turned back with a frown, only to have her suddenly against him, her head leaning against his shoulder. He smiled tiredly and slipped his arms around her, kissing her temple even as Leherim butted in again.

_Legolas!_

_I'm coming, I'm coming._

_Somehow, I doubt it._

He chuckled softly and released his hold on Mirimir, stepping back. He tilted her head up, kissing her on the tip of the nose. "I missed you, too," he murmured with a grin. Not missing the soft blush on the ear tips which peeked out from dark slashes of hair, he quickly made his way to the great hall.

_Well, I'm here. Now what?_

_Well sit down!_

With a roll of his eyes he did as she bid, bending to kiss her cheek before sitting. _Happy?_

"More so," she agreed.

Elrohir rolled his eyes. "So that's it?" 

"Yes," Legolas agreed with a faint smile. "Your wife has been hassling me about joining you for dinner. Though I must say, my previous company was rather more pleasant than most of those here."

"Mirimir?" Leherim asked softly.

"Yes," he agreed.

"The elf who doesn't speak?" Elrohir asked, frowning at his goblet.

"Yes, for whatever reason."

"You think she's capable of it?"

"I think she is… after all, what elf has ever been incapable of speech? I've not heard of a single one."

"Nor have I… Although Father would be the one to ask."

Leherim looked at him in some amusement. "That would be a bit difficult, wouldn't it?"

Elrohir shrugged. "Letters work as well now as they once did, and he'll be expecting us to assure him we've arrived, anyway."

Leherim's ears grew rosy, and she lowered her eyes. "Um… A messenger was already sent out with that information."

Elrohir shook his head at her before tilting it to rest against her temple. He kissed her cheek before straightening. "Well, there's always the next letter."

"That there is," she agreed with a slight smile. "You really think she just chooses not to speak?" she asked, turning to Legolas.

"She chooses not to truly communicate in any sure form. She knows how to write—I've seen her scrawling out things which she invariably hides—but she doesn't even use that to speak with us."  The flickers of emotion he got from her had been the closest thing to communication, and most of the time that was purely without intent on her part. Knowing she wouldn't even send thoughts to him… it made him sure there was more to her silence than inability. 

The meal was served then, and Legolas carefully avoided his wine all through and after the meal, though he did dance a few times—both with his sister and other she-elves. The elf from the previous evening was one, and he found himself floundering for her name… which was very embarrassing, since what little he remembered of the night seemed to indicate they had shared his bed for a while.

A serving elf came up, holding a tray of goblets. "Wine?" he asked softly. "Your highness?" Legolas shook his head and waved him off, at which point the elf turned to the she-elf whose name he was trying desperately to remember. "Lady Eiectorm?"

"No, thank you," she murmured, turning her attention back to Legolas.

He was just thankful he had her name. Still, knowing her name didn't help knowing he wasn't entirely sure if they had spent a good portion of the night together. In the end, he did the only thing he gracefully could do—he invited her back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He may not be ready to fall in love, but he was _obviously_ a bit more amenable to female company. As for how he'll be acting about the lady Eiectorm, I had fun with her name. If you can figure it out, you'll know what's going to happen, or at least a bit about her. 

It's nice to hear people don't mind skipping the quest. Eventually there will be a bit of traveling, but for now, it's the walls of Mirkwood who see what's going on. And you, of course. 

Farflung: Um… yeah, he got hit in the morning, alright. Stay tuned for more idiot elf prince…


	17. In the garden

Well, here's a bit more of Mirimir… and Lady Eiectorm. As for her name, it's really not complicated—just try saying it out loud. I did try a actual elven language mix for Mirimir's name, but Eiectorm didn't warrant the effort. Yeah, Legolas is a regular _guy_ in this fic, but even he has to get his head screwed on right eventually…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A light touch settled upon his shoulder for an instant, then slid down his back to his waist as she ducked under his arm, passing him to step into the garden. He smiled slightly to watch her walk. Now she walked upright, and though it would be a while longer before she walked as easily as any other elf, she was doing quite well. 

The lights lingered in the dark cuts of hair that broke up the smoothness of her cheeks as she dropped to the ground, reaching out to one of the plants that was choking beneath several larger ones. She impatiently tossed her head, her hair obediently falling behind her ears until she leaned forward again, her fingers working nimbly to loosen the plant from the dirt it had lived in until she chose it. Blowing at the strands, she gave a small tug, stopping when they both heard a few roots snap with the motion. She threaded her fingers through the mass of root and soil, coaxing them apart. When her hair fell forward yet again, the dark strands ending at the tips of her lashes as she stretched forward to see her progress, she sighed and pushed the strands back with a soiled hand, drawing a moist black line across her cheek. 

He was about to reach down to help, either by tucking her hair out of the way or helping her release the plant from the ground, but light footsteps behind him paused, halting him. A rather possessive hand settled on his shoulder blade, before curling around to his waist as the cloying perfume Eiectorm wore lifted to his nose. She ducked under his arm, but snuggled against his chest, drawing his arm around her. 

Straightening slightly, he frowned down at her, but was distracted as a bit of dirt popped up from the ground. He looked down as Mirimir looked up, her eyes filled with silver touches of starlight until she saw Eiectorm. She frowned so swiftly he thought he was surely mistaken as her face returned to pure calm, but her eyes fell from his, and she laid the plant aside, filling the hole she had left as well as she could. 

"My lord, it is late," Eiectorm murmured softly, stepping back, attempting to pull him along by taking his hand with her. "Leave her to her work."

Looking down at Mirimir, who was pulling small rocks from the root ball she had pulled up with the small plant, he moved forward, his hand released as he crouched before her. "Mirimir?" he asked softly, tilting her chin up. "Have you a true place for that?"

Slowly she shook her head, her eyes falling away after a long moment. 

"Then I shall find you one by lunch, little one." 

She smiled faintly at him, closing her eyes as she bowed her head ever so slightly. 

He smiled at her in turn, and shifted his hand so he could brush away the dirt on her cheek. Then he tucked her hair behind her ears, and got to his feet, pulling her up beside him. "Rest well," he offered, brushing lightly at a miniscule piece of soil that had remained. She bowed her head again, so he kissed her forehead and stepped back, leaving the garden without really noticing or caring that Eiectorm went with him. 

"She is the mute?"

"She does not speak." 

"Why?"

Legolas frowned—her tone was not curious, and the closest thing he could guess to call it was disdainful. "I do not know—she does not speak of her reason."

Eiectorm laughed at that though he hadn't meant to be humorous, her high pitched tones grating after the serene silence of the garden. 

"This is where I leave you," he murmured a few minutes later, looking down at her.

She looked at the hall leading to the nobles' quarters and frowned. "My lord?"

He lifted a brow back at her, and turned to wind his way to his own rooms when her hand curled around his arm. He looked down at it for a moment, before looking back at her. "Yes, Lady Eiectorm?"

"Will I see you tomorrow night?"

"No doubt," he agreed, meaning more along the lines of he was intending to eat in the great hall, but she took it to mean somewhat more. Though her presumption annoyed him, he couldn't be sure he would be against her company by then, so he said nothing, merely continued on his way to his room. 

His path went by Mirimir's room, and he found a slight smile tilting his lips as the smell of fresh earth lifted to clear Eiectorm's scent from his nose as his eyes found a few small bits of dirt that had fallen from Mirimir's newest plant as she silently traveled to place it in its new home.


	18. So tired

*

A few months after his return, he woke in the middle of the night to realize three things—Eiectorm was gone, he felt like a slug, and Mirimir was worried. 

With a soft groan he forced himself up, found he was mostly clothed—to his surprise—added what clothing he was missing, and nearly fell over. 

When the dizziness passed he walked as quickly as he could down the halls to the library, tapping lightly on her door, waiting for her to open it. With some hesitation, she did so, her silver-sparked eyes running over him before she took his hand and led him to the bed, pushing him back onto it. She left the room and came back with a glass of water, which she forced him to drink. 

While he got the liquid through his oddly thick throat, she lightly brushed the hair back from his sweating forehead, concern coiling almost tangibly in his stomach from the light touch. He tried to block her emotions, but found it even harder than usual. 

_I'm all right,_ he assured her softly.

She shook her head and pressed him down, going into the bathroom again. She returned with the glass refilled, and a bowl of water. She withdrew a cloth from the bowl, rang it mostly out, and began mopping his brow. Gentle fingers closed his eyes as she sighed softly, loosening the ties on his tunic. 

_Mirimir__…__ Why am I so tired?_

A flash of pain was his only answer, and that came through a foggy haze as he slipped into unconsciousness.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Yeah, I know, _incredibly_ short chapter. My only defense is the two chapters for my two other current stories were on the draining side. Okay, one of my two defenses. The other one is I have another chapter nearly ready, but decided to go ahead and put this up and let you all stew over it while I finished the next one, rather than not putting anything up so I could put two together, since this one is so short. All that said, look for a longer chapter next time… by Tuesday, most likely. 

Mirimir will speak… eventually. Promise. 


	19. The snare

Okay… Yes, Mirimir was able to tell there was something wrong with him, which was why she was worried about him. As for the rest of it… you'll have to keep reading (beyond even this chapter) for explanations. I would just like to (runs back to previous chapter and points out line) say: found he was mostly clothed—to his surprise… and just ask you all to keep that little tidbit in mind before you start Lego-bashing too badly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Legolas tilted his head with a slight smile. Mirimir was sitting on the balcony railing, looking out over one of the larger, more public gardens. Even at this hour of the night there were several elves wandering around below. 

He moved behind her, resting his hands on either side of her. He'd warned her of his approach, so she hadn't flinched or moved away at his touch. She was still so wary of anyone she didn't know well… which was everyone except him, and Leherim. She leaned back, trusting him to support her. 

He smiled and kissed her crown. _It is beautiful, isn't it?_

A faint nod was his only reply. 

Contentment, from her and himself, overwhelmed him, made him close his eyes to savor it.

_Legolas?_

He frowned swiftly, trying to figure out who was contacting him… though it would seem obvious, as Mirimir had never yet spoke to him in any way. _Yes?_

_Father wishes you. Now._

_Now?__ But it's rather late._

_I know. Now._

He sighed softly. _Do you know what it is?_

_No. I only know he does not look at all happy._

_With me, or with—_

_I don't know, just hurry up. Letting him stew is undoubtedly a bad idea._

_Very well,_ he sighed softly. _Mirimir__, Father wishes me._

She straightened and looked up at him over her shoulder, frowning slightly. 

"I don't know," he answered softly. 

She sighed softly, but turned her attention back to the garden.

Wishing he could do that, Legolas walked to his father's study. "Father?" he called softly, entering the room. He lifted a brow when he saw the room's other occupants. "You wished to speak with me?"

"Yes. Have you considered wedding any?"

Legolas frowned, shaking his head slowly. "Not in the sense of having anyone in mind, just knowing that someday I would find an elf I loved enough to spend the rest of my life with."

"Which you have not yet done?"

Legolas felt like he was walking on shaky ground, but he couldn't figure out why. Of course, having Eiectorm and her father there sent even more in the way of nerves into his stomach. "My love thus far is extended only to family and friends. Though some friends are dear, as yet I see none as my wife."

Thranduil sighed softly. "Then you are opposed to marriage at this time?"

Legolas felt his eyes widen. "Of course! I will not marry where there is no love." He looked down slightly, aware his reply had been so assured it as much as said he would refuse if ordered to. 

"I am sorry to hear that, Legolas," Thranduil murmured wearily. "For it seems marriage would be the most valiant option for you now."

Confusion battled with anger. "Why would that be, Father?"

Thranduil's lips pursed in disapproval, disappointment. "Lady Eiectorm is with child, apparently by you."

The walls shook, panic and horror climbing to escape his chest as he tried to process that simple statement and remain calm—at least in appearance. Still, when Thranduil's hand rested on his shoulder, urging him to sit, he didn't protest, sinking numbly into his chair. 

Okay, he had a few options. Deny it all, and hope it blows over. Not a bloody likely thing, considering the scandal this would be named. The dear Prince, caught in such a snare. Of course, they wouldn't believe it was a snare.

Option two, tell the utter truth, and risk being eviscerated by both fathers currently in the room. 

Lastly, he could marry her. 

His stomach rolled at the thought—he had broken it off with her entirely more than a month past, because he had been unable to stand her any longer. She was as shallow and false as any elf of such an age could possibly be, though she had put up a fairly convincing show for a while, and he did sometimes feel like having female company enough he could have looked past a lot of faults… for a time.

Well, not much in the way of options. Slowly he raised his head, looking up at his father. "I did not ever desire to have a child with any she-elf." Much less the one before him. "If, at the quickening, the child is mine, then I shall marry her."

A muscle twitched in his father's jaw, but her father was less restrained. "If you force this to wait until the quickening, it will be obvious to all that you doubt your responsibility." 

"If the child is mine, I know my responsibility, and I will step up to it. As long as I remain unconvinced… I refuse to be coerced into a marriage." 

"That is not your choice, Legolas," Thranduil murmured softly, frowning. "As well you know." With a soft sigh he sat down behind his desk. "This shall have to go to a council. I cannot decide it fairly by myself." Shaking his head slightly, he folded his hands. "You may all go, for now."

"How are we to know he won't leave?"

Thranduil's face grew thunderous for an instant. "He is the Prince of Greenwood. Do you think he would shirk his duty?"

Legolas was a bit cross with the question himself. "Besides, Leherim always knows where to find me." As the three left the room, his two accusers unconvinced he would remain for his judgment, Legolas was aware of a faint shadow that shouldn't have been where it was. He tilted his head and approached, smiling faintly as he figured out who it was. "Out rather late… or early, I suppose?"

Mirimir looked up at him, her dark brows knit as she studied his face. She tilted her head slightly and bit her lip, before she stepped against him. 

He accepted her offer of comfort with a silent sigh, bending his head to rest it on her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her. _I wish everything after the garden had never happened,_ he murmured softly. 

Her hands moved tentatively to his waist, slowly sliding around to link at the small of his back. Her head tilted against his, a faint sound escaping her as she relaxed. 

Taking deep breaths, he was slowly able to relax, but the prospect of the coming council was not conducive to anything resembling the contentment he had felt earlier that night. 


	20. Testify

Sorry this took so long, everyone. Let's just say things got really, really hectic. I spent over fifteen hours on GABA and it's receptors, agonists, antagonists etc in the last five days alone… along with exams, work, classes, presentations, labs… yup, hectic. I don't foresee it happening again, though. Not that that always matters. 

Review response: I answer direct questions or comments that require a response only. I appreiciate all reviews, even if there is not a direct response. So, to those I'm not directly commenting to, thanks for reading & reviewing. 

With that said… 

Farflung: I debated the title chapter for that reason. Oh well. I don't want to leave it just chapter (whatever), but there's the giving the plot away annoyance. I liked option #3. Sounds like a plan. : } And yeah, that's a pretty good summary of Lady Eiectorm. Yep, that's my idea for this—the child can respond to his father's presence, if 'talked to' by a proper mediator (a special healer/midwife type elf). The link between Legolas and Mirimir is entirely bidirectional. She gets everything from him, he gets everything from her. He sends thoughts… she doesn't, but she could if she wanted to. As for these two stories getting a big revelation… so did my other one. Actually, the main character died. At least one is about to wrap up. Though I suppose I could claim this break was just for a break, I really was swamped. I hate being away from my stories for so long. Don't go beating Legolas up for another chapter or two… then you can decide if you want to. ; )

Iluvien: What wild oats have my other Legolas characters sown… well, except for in 'Listen, Children'? I guess those two are a _little_ bit similar… at least in these momentary situations. I never thought about it. *cringe* I hate repeating myself. 

Lady Jade Perendhil: Sorry, I admit to never having gotten around to reading any work other than The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit. I don't know that much about elves. But your complaint helped shape this chapter a bit.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"On the night in question, you were with Eiectorm?"

"I was not," Legolas murmured quietly, his jaw held tightly, hearing all the whispers from beyond him, speculating if he was telling the truth even though normally his word would be taken nearly as law. 

"Where were you, if not with her, and not in your room, as Elrohir has already testified?"

Legolas swallowed carefully. 

"Well?"

Legolas shook his head slightly, closing his eyes for an instant. 

"Where were you, and who were you with?"

He slid his mouth firmly closed. The hall erupted in excited and disapproving whispers and murmurs as it became obvious he refused to answer.

"Silence!" Thranduil sat back wearily in the head seat of the elder panel that had joined together to decide Legolas's fate. "The elders shall meet again on the morrow, to hear any last evidence or pleads." 

Legolas closed his eyes with a sigh, and shook his head as he walked down one of the little used halls. He had been more or less cast as the villain on the first word of testimony. The servants and nobles he passed hundreds of times a day no longer smiled as they bowed their heads to him, no longer tried to speak with him. Leherim had gotten into several arguments on his behalf, but there was nothing to be done. 

If he could just have the wedding prolonged to the quickening, he would have a chance. Otherwise, he would be forever linked to Eiectorm, even if the marriage was dissolved when the child was found not to be his, as there was no way he would ever allow it to be a true marriage. 

Even beyond the settlement that would come of such dissolution, the elves of Greenwood would forever remember that he had married her, and the reason for the hasty marriage, even if it was found—as he believed it would—that the child was not his. 

But with only his word against hers, it was unlikely the elders would force her to carry a child while unwed to the time of the quickening, even if she was treated as a princess in the meantime… which she was. Thranduil had seen to that, though he denied up and down having made any judgment call one way or another. 

A soft sigh came from behind him, and a head rested against his shoulder. "Surely they will allow the time," she whispered softly.

He smiled faintly. "If it were not me, dear sister, would you wish it?"

"Of course!"

He lifted a brow at her, making her frown.

"I think. Oh, damn it all! Legolas, you know the child isn't yours!" 

"I am certain I never wished for it," he agreed softly. "Just as I am certain it is unlikely I shall escape the trap she has so insidiously laid for me. What does she want? The title you have spent your life loathing? The riches that accompany it? Those shall not long remain… any more than shall I. This business weakens what desire to remain on these shores I had left. In the undying lands I shall no longer be as a prince, merely another elf."

"That may not be entirely true—you will always be known as the prince, and Father will still have a place to rule."

"Yes, but so many of the things the dwarves would enjoy in our halls will remain here, without use in the West, even should we attempt to take them with us." A soft noise at the door made them turn. "Good night, dear one," he murmured, kissing her forehead as she moved to Elrohir. 

"Legolas," he hesitated. "I—"

Legolas lifted a hand and shook his head. "You spoke the truth, Elrohir. No one can be angry for that."

Leherim turned back from the door with a frown. "Who were you with, wherever you were?"

He lifted a brow, remaining utterly silent until she left with an exasperated shake of her head. Then he sighed softly and lounged in one of the chairs in the small library, unable to think about sleep with doom hanging over his head by a tenuous thread. He let his head fall back, closing his eyes. 

Slender fingers soon deftly brushed his hair from his forehead, before running lightly down his cheeks and his neck to his shoulders, where they gathered to rub lightly for a moment before withdrawing. 

He tilted his head and lazily opened his eyes, catching her hand, drawing her around to sit, partially beside him and partially on him. He kissed her temple and closed his eyes again as she settled against him, her forehead against his neck. 

"Legolas?"

"Over here," he called softly. 

Thranduil came forward and frowned at the sight of the she-elf curled against him. "Son?" 

"Father, meet Mirimir. Mirimir, my father, King Thranduil." 

Mirimir lifted her head, and studied the elf before her for a long moment. Then she frowned and pursed her lips, getting up to leave. 

Neither male lifted a finger to stop her, and sat in silence until the door closed quietly behind her. "Well… not exactly what I expected," Thranduil murmured softly. "She seems quite well."

"She refuses to speak yet," Legolas answered, hearing the question Thranduil hadn't posed.

"And you two?"

"Are close friends, but no closer than Leherim and I are."

"If she cannot speak—"

"Speech is highly overrated." 

Thranduil settled into the chair across from Legolas's, a considering look on his face. "You were with her that night, weren't you?"

Legolas's gaze fell without intent.

"Why didn't you just say so?"

"Say what, Father?" Legolas asked, looking up with wide, curious eyes that might have projected the innocence he was going for, but for the slight darkening of his eyes he couldn't control.

Thranduil's eyes narrowed, a frown drawing his brows together. "Were you or were you not with her?"

"I was not with Eiectorm. Other than that is irrelevant to this problem."

"It is hardly irrelevant. If you were with someone, they can verify that. You would be entirely in the clear!"

Slowly Legolas shook his head, wearily closing his eyes. "I spoke to no one that night, and no one will say otherwise."

"Son… is the child yours?"

"I was not with her that night, Father. If she speaks the truth about the night of conception, I am in the clear. I never wished a child with her, and I cannot see it happening when both facts I hold to were held true."

Thranduil sighed softly, running a hand absently through his hair. "If you refuse to speak… it looks badly upon you."

"I know. But I have nothing more to say." 

"This is idiocy! If you have proof of what you say, why not bring the information to light? I no more wish the incorrect decision made than do you—I know as well as Leherim does you speak the truth, but no one will believe her claims, knowing how close she is to you."

"She would not lie to protect me—not at the cost of her nephew or niece. But they don't realize that, do they?"

"Sadly, they enjoy the scandal more than the truth. Legolas—"

"Father, I have nothing else I can say. I am sorry."

"You will not draw her, whoever she is, into this, even if it costs you your freedom for the rest of time, costs you your reputation and the respect you have always been given?"

"My reputation, and the respect that went with it, have been horribly damaged just by this being brought to council. As for my freedom—at the least the marriage would be dissolved within a few months, if not weeks."

"Yes, the quickening approaches, and so the Wood calls for a decision. We cannot put it off much longer, no matter how we feel about it."

"How you feel about it," Legolas corrected.

"They as well, or have you forgotten that they have often seen you and Leherim speak with each other? They know what the others will not believe, that Leherim speaks the truth when she speaks of your feelings regarding the whole thing."

"But what she picks up cannot be used as uncontestable proof. It's known I can keep her from feeling my emotions, so they can argue I can send her false ones as well!" Legolas sighed and ran a hand through his hair, slowly letting go of his anger. "It doesn't matter. Everything shall be said tomorrow, save the decision we already know."


	21. Bloody decision

Okay, got another chapter for you all! This should clear up at least part of the confusion I've noticed from reviews.

Farflung: Well, you kind of should know why he isn't telling, though I may have been too subtle again. This chapter answers it, anyway. This chapter also helps put a nicer light on at least some of Legolas's actions, and gets over the gossip factor. Or, I think it does, I suppose I should say. In my mind, the elves can tell she is pregnant. Dunno how, but they can. You had the same idea I did about this and Mirimir… and my third work in progress is now complete… unless I decide to write a sequel. I do have some ideas for that, but I don't know yet. I'm not sure about the whole three at once part all over again. 

Lindaleriel: I think you may be the only one who figured Legolas was staying quiet to keep from dragging Mirimir into this mess. 

Galorin: For this story I'm postulating that elves (specially trained/ gifted) can sort of 'talk' to the child, and can use the child's response to the presence of other elves to respond. Naturally the child would respond in a certain way to family… including Ada. My idea is at the quickening, one of those elves could use the child's reaction to determine it's parentage. Which would either nail Legolas to the cross or set him free. 

Worral: You're a bit impatient! There's a long way to go. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Thranduil looked grimly at the two young elves facing him. Then he cast a glance through the crowd, seeing Leherim and Elrohir not far behind Legolas. "A new bit of evidence was brought to my attention early this morning. A letter, written by an unknown elf, concerning this matter. The part which is most relevant to these proceedings, I shall now read aloud. 'In wandering through the halls on the night concerning you, I heard Lady Eiectorm speaking to the elf she had been associated with before. Hearing Legolas's name, I paused to hear, for I knew her voice as well. She spoke of their plan, and how well it was going. The prince would be well and truly trapped, for he had fallen into the deep sleep the herbs he slipped into the Prince's wine had intended. She spoke also of the child she had conceived the elf she was then lying with, and assured him she could pass the child off as the Prince's, for he would not remember the night, because of the herbs.'" Thranduil laid the paper down, and fixed the she-elf a piercing gaze. "What have you to say about this?"

"Lies!" she protested, her voice wavering. "All lies, my lord."

"There is a lot more, which would indicate otherwise… including the truth of Legolas's whereabouts that night."

"He was with me," she insisted, resting a hand over her abdomen, "no matter who lies for him, unable to come forward in person to face me with these ridiculous lies!"

One of the elders slowly nodded. "She has a point, Thranduil. Let the one who wrote this document step forward!"

Silence pervaded the hall for a long moment, and then slowly an elf walked up to the front of the room. 

_Mirimir?_

She tilted her head at him, but did nothing else, facing the elders with her hands folded serenely before her. 

Thranduil lifted a brow. "You wrote this?" he asked, lifting the paper.

Mirimir nodded her head, her eyes closing slightly.

"And you stand by everything you wrote?" he continued, letting the document fall to his lap.

Again she nodded. 

"This is ridiculous!" Eiectorm's father jumped up from his seat. "She has said nothing, and only by verbal accusation can these things be considered!"

"She has never spoken," Legolas murmured lowly, his eyes darkening. "You ask the impossible."

"I realize that," the elf sneered. "I ask her to speak, to stand up for her lies, which were clearly designed to protect you."

"No."

The room went still at the whisper, Legolas's head snapping around, his jaw dropping open. "Mirimir?"

She turned, her eyes flashing silver, her hands clenched as she drew herself up to her full height, tilting her head back, her hair sliding out of her face. "I have never spoken a lie before, and I shall not start now. Everything I wrote is truth. She conspired to trap the prince. Let her lover take the test at the quickening, but do not punish your prince for her deception and conniving!" Each word was slow, hesitant, but it was clear to all who could see her glittering eyes that the pause was due to her unfamiliarity with speech, rather than with lies. Before anyone could so much as move, she turned and raced silently from the hall, which buzzed at her departure.

Legolas's breath escaped as he sank into his seat, leaning his head on a hand. She spoke! More than that, she may have gotten him out of all trouble associated with Lady Eiectorm. So thinking, he glanced up at his father, who was smiling slightly as he called a guard over. With a few quick words the guard was released, and went with a few others out of the hall. 

"Well, Eiectorm, have you anything to say?"

All blood drained from her face, leaving her lips pale. "No, your highness."

"Not even to deny these accusations?"

She lowered her head, touching her abdomen again. "No," she whispered softly. 

The room was covered in silence as Thranduil looked at her. "The council is declared without just reason for continuing this farce. You, and your accomplice, shall come before me and my advisors in my study to determine your punishment for this attempt, for your treachery. Understood?"

"Yes, your highness," she agreed.

"In the meantime, you shall both be held, so you will be here when the time comes," he murmured with a faint smile, "as neither of you have anything truly holding you to Greenwood." Joy shown in his eyes as he looked at his son. "That is all." As the room began emptying, the Lady Eiectorm was given a few minutes with her family and a few friends before she was led away to spend her remaining time in the dungeons, and he looked at his still stunned children. "Legolas, Leherim?" They followed him without a word. When the door closed, he embraced them both. "We have come through another rough time, my children."

Legolas closed his eyes with a faint smile. "We have inde—" he broke off, his eyes widening, going darker even as all the color drained from his face, even his lips going a pale shade of grey.

"Legolas?"

_Legolas?_

He grimaced, wrapping an arm around his middle. His breath hissed out, and a moment later he took a few rapid but shallow ones even as his family looked on in growing confusion and panic. "No!" he groaned softly, turning and running from the room. 

Leherim and Thranduil looked at each other, before Leherim raced out after her brother. _Legolas!_

_Send for a healer!_

_What?_

_You heard me, just do it!_

_Send him where?_

_…Mirimir's room,_ he whispered softly, running even faster as the pain shafting through him grew weaker. _Hold on, Mirimir, hold on!_

He skidded around a corner, seeing an elf fleeing. One of the guards who had followed him raced after the elf at his slight indication to do so, even as he scrambled for the door. It had been locked, from the outside, the key missing. Instead of chasing after it, he raced to the library, running into several elves as he dove for the other door. It was unlocked, and he threw it open in a rush, his heart falling to his feet at the scene before him. 

He dropped to his knees on the floor beside her, carefully gripping the haft of the dagger that was protruding from Mirimir's chest. Her breath came in small, wet gasps, with coughs that shook her thin frame, blood staining her lips and teeth. Taking a deep breath, he tightened his grip, but before he could pull it free, bloody fingers rested over his. 

"Leave it."

_No. _He shook his head to back it up, even as he removed her hands, feeling the weakness growing, pulling her farther and farther from him. 

_You may as well. I shall die for speaking._

_You will not. If you die for any reason, it will be because he stabbed you!_

_For speaking._

_For letting the truth be known, yes, but not because you spoke._

_He always said if I spoke, I would die. I spoke, and now, I will die._

Legolas shook his head slightly, before taking a steadying breath. He pulled the dagger cleanly free, clenching his jaw against the pain that shafted through him even as she bit back a cry, coughing instead. Her lip began bleeding around her teeth, which remained buried deeply in the faintly pink flesh. He dropped the dagger and unclasped his cape, folding it to press against her wound, hoping to slow the flow of blood enough to give the healers time to arrive. Leaning partly against it, and partially over her, he ran his bloodied fingers through her short hair. _Do you want to die?_ he asked, trying to keep her conscious by talking to her.

_No. But I haven't any choice!_

_There are very good healers in the palace. If you fight to live, it is possible you shall. The strike did not damage your heart, you may live._

She looked up at him, monitoring every breath as she thought about it for a while. _Do you believe that?_

_I have had wounds worse than this and survived,_ he answered softly. _Why shouldn't you?_

_He always said if I said a single word, I would die._

_Who said that?_

_Father._

Legolas stiffened in shock, the one thing he had never considered hitting him with all the subtlety of a cave troll as what he was receiving from her grew even fainter. _Your Father?_

She didn't reply, her eyes drifting closed, lashes covering her pained pale grey eyes. 

"Legolas!" A loud bang came on the door, no doubt not the first time, but the first time he noticed.

_Come through the library,_ he told her. 

Steps raced through, and suddenly there were elves all around him, though he only noticed two: Leherim, who stopped dead in horror and shock when she saw the pool of blood he was kneeling in, and Elrohir, who began ordering the servants around, and who knelt on her other side. "Let's get her on the bed, Legolas," he murmured softly. 

Legolas lifted himself slightly, and helped Elrohir place her gently onto the covers. "Elrohir?"

"I don't know," he answered quickly, before barking out more orders for different things, sending the servants flying away for the ordered items. "One of you should be here when she wakes."

"If—" He couldn't finish it, and instead sank onto the single chair in her room that didn't have plants on it. 

Leherim moved a plant from the table to the floor and sat on the smooth surface after brushing the small bits of dirt aside, combing her fingers through his hair absently as they watched and waited. She picked the braids apart, letting the strands fall unhindered around his shoulders. _Legolas?_

_Hmm?_

_How did you know?_

He closed his eyes and sighed. _Do you remember the night I came into your room not long after you had married? I was feeling—_

_Feeling someone else's emotions… Mirimir's?_

He nodded slightly. _Yes._

Leherim absorbed that for a long moment. _Why didn't you say anything?_

He shrugged. _I don't know._

Although normally she would have pressed for a better answer than that, now was not the time, especially since Legolas was probably feeling everything that was happening… _How is she?_

_Still here, but faintly. Leherim, her father always told her if she ever said a word she would die._

_Her_ FATHER? _How could anyone's father say something like that?_

_I don't know…_ he trailed off, hesitating. 

_What?_

_Could… Could Madan have been her father?_

_Madan,_ Leherim growled the name, her eyes narrowing. She studied Mirimir. _He had blond hair,_ she reminded Legolas.

_Yes, and he once had a wife, didn't he? What about children?_

_I… I don't know. I never considered it. He had no family when he was found to be so wicked._

_No. Perhaps that is what we need to find out, discover what happened, really happened to her._

_But now she may be able to tell us. It seems a bit of a waste._

_She_ may _be able to tell us, but she may not._

_Legolas,_ she sighed softly, letting her hand drop to his shoulder as she leaned down to kiss his temple. _You must believe she will live._

_She believes this is her punishment for speaking._ His eyes, already dark, grew even darker as he saw more blood flowing from her half-stitched wound. _She believed if she spoke, she would die… but she spoke anyway._

On his behalf. To save him. Leherim looked at the motionless she-elf, and smiled faintly. _I'd say she's gotten over her initial reaction to you._

He snorted softly and lowered his head, a faint and bitter smile twisting his lips. _Yes._

Leherim remained silent for a time, watching her husband trying to save the she-elf her brother was connected to in the same way he was connected to her. _Does she wish to live?_

_She said she did._

_Do you believe her?_

_She also told me to leave the dagger as it was._

Leherim took a deep breath and tilted her head until her temple was resting against Legolas's crown. _All we can do is wait, and hope. Send her encouragement, if you can._

_I'd hate to encourage her the wrong way, and there is no way for me to know what she's leaning towards._

_Then send her your worry, your care._ Leherim closed her eyes as Legolas closed his, doing just that. 


	22. Glassy eyes, distant expression

Yes, Mirimir talked, and her father is to blame for her past silence… I just realized I seem to have something out for fathers in my stories. Weird. Anyway, thanks for all the reviews, everyone, but I'm holding the response short(basically to the above lines) because I need to get to class and wanted to get this up today. For some reason the html is no longer showing the …, instead showing them as a single period, so I'm trying it with spacings to see if it works. If it does (sigh) I'll go back and re-upload the previous chapter.

Farflung: Yeah, I thought about that as I was writing it, but couldn't think of a good place to separate it into two chapters to help in the suspense area. Leady E is more likely in the healing rooms with a guard, because of the child. I _really_ need to read the Sil. It sounds more and more interesting all the time. Yeah, Legolas wasn't completely off the hook, but knowing he was drugged helps a bit, right? And now all the wood can be back in arms to defend him… although he has to feel sheepish. The prince of Mirkwood, elf of the fellowship, doped up and snared. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"It seems there is a lot more to this Mirimir than a lack of words," Thranduil murmured softly, leaning back in his large chair. 

Legolas smiled slightly from his carefully casual position, half-sitting and half-standing on and against Thranduil's desk. "Yes. For many years she has consumed all the books she could get her hands on with an eager hunger that even Elrond would admire." 

Leherim laughed, her eyes sparkling. "And that's saying a lot."

"She has written before?"

"Obviously she knew how to write," Legolas glanced down at the papers in question, which detailed all of the things Mirimir knew about Lady Eiectorm and her plot in gracefully sloping handwriting, though several marks were somewhat unconventional, more reminiscent of the old script than that which most currently used, which made sense, when he remembered she hadn't been taught how to write—she had undoubtedly taught herself using the books in the library as a guide. "But she never gave us a note."

"Legolas, has she ever…" Leherim frowned and broke off, biting her lip. 

"What?"

_Spoken to your mind?_

"Only after the council was released."

"Um… One of you want to fill me in?"

Legolas turned slightly to see his father more clearly. "Since they met, Leherim and Elrohir have formed a tentative link such as she and I have shared for so long. From the day they wed, I have found myself connected in such a manner with Mirimir. She never used it to send thoughts, and hardly ever intended to send anything through it at all, though she accepted it, and me, fairly easily." Because he always managed to be there, once he'd figured it out, when she was having a nightmare, reliving a terrible memory from her past. Maybe now she would share them with him… if she ever woke up. 

Leherim tilted her head, frowning slightly. "And when she did speak, was it easy?"

"Of course. Just as if I was speaking with you—as it's always been with her."

"But…" _Elrohir__ and I took decades to converse easily, and over long distances we still have trouble… Do you mean to say you could speak to her while in Gondor with Aragorn, though I couldn't speak with my husband without concentrating hard when we were merely in different parts of our family homes for years?_

"I suppose… yes." 

Leherim sighed and rolled her eyes. "You have all the luck."

"Not all," he reminded her with a grimace. He shifted his arms more tightly over his chest, trying to still the burgeoning pain. He held in another wince as something other than pain flared in his chest. He started to laugh, but the pain cut it off short. "Oh, damn it all," he cursed, pressing against the muscles in his chest that hurt even as each breath became painful. _Mirimir__, don't panic. I'll be there as soon as I can,_ he promised, even as he concentrated on blocking enough of her pain he could manage to walk and breathe at the same time. 

"Legolas?"

"Mirimir's awake, and panicking."

Leherim blinked, and then her mouth dropped open before her eyes widened in sympathy… for about two seconds before a wicked little smile sparkled in her eyes and turned her lips. "Now you know another reason I hate you working as a warrior."

He sent her a weak glare, but he focused more on getting to Mirimir than in putting effort into it. "Coming?" he bit out.

Thranduil and Leherim shared an amused glance before Leherim slipped to his side, pulling his arm over her shoulder. "I think we could make it to Gondor and back before you get there, at this rate."

"Then give me a hand, sister dearest."

She chuckled lightly at his clipped tones and tightened her arm around his waist. "Let's go." 

When they reached the room, they found Elrohir about ready to pull his hair out in frustration, and Mirimir crouched beneath the table, one hand wrapped around her middle as the other helped her stay upright. 

Legolas growled softly before moving forward with a wince. "Mirimir," he murmured quietly. 

Her eyes darted from Elrohir to him, and she started to get up, but the pain stopped her, flaring through him again. 

"Legolas? Are you all right?" Elrohir hesitated, his steps stuttering to a stop as he tried to figure out which elf needed his attention worse.

Legolas nodded shortly. "I'm fine… or I will be," he added, carefully lowering himself to a crouch before her. "Come on, little one. I'll help you up." 

"Are you sure that's wise, Legolas?"

"Why wouldn't it—" he broke off with a grimace when the full extent of her pain crashed through him the instant their skin touched, nearly sending him to the floor. "I see your point. Perhaps you would…"

"Of course," Leherim agreed. She held out a hand to Mirimir, helping the injured elf stand carefully, and wrapped an arm around her when she began to waver on her feet. "You should be resting, Mirimir."

Mirimir glanced at Elrohir and carefully drew her knees to her chest, before shifting slightly to help minimize the pain.

Legolas got to his feet, enjoying the loss of pain. He picked her heels up and physically forced her to lay down flat, sitting beside her when he had done so to help make up for the more vulnerable position he had put her in. "Mirimir, I think it's time I introduced you to Leherim's husband… Or perhaps she should?" When Leherim didn't say anything, merely made her way to Elrohir's side, Legolas shook his head. "Elrohir is one of Elrond's sons, and he is known for healing. He helped you return to us." _You have nothing to fear from him._

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and struck with silver lights. She reached up, almost to his cheek before they both winced from the move. She frowned, touching his chest lightly. _Why do you hurt?_

_Because you do._

_What? But…_

_What?_

She shook her head slightly. _Nothing._

_There is no nothing, not now. What were you thinking?_

_I was remembering a time when Leherim mentioned one of the reasons she hated you being in danger—she could feel your injuries. Am I wrong in assuming this is like that?_

_No, you are perfectly correct._

"Anyone want to let us in?" Leherim asked in some slight annoyance.

"What do you mean?" Elrohir asked, frowning at her.

"He can talk to her like he does with me," she answered softly. "And I'd bet they were talking just now."

Elrohir chuckled softly. "So you finally get to see what it looks like."

"Hmm. Glassy eyes, distant expressions, yeah. Doesn't quite look intelligent, does it?"

"You do it all the time, Leherim, so don't start with me now," Legolas grumbled, settling against the headboard. 

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"What were you talking about?"

He smiled faintly and closed his eyes as he let his head fall back against the wood work. 

"Legolas?"

Lazily he opened his eyes. "You're still here?"

"You pulled me along," she grumbled.

"You have it reversed, dear sister." 

She snorted and stormed from the room. The males left behind shared a look before chuckling softly. Elrohir looked at Mirimir, then back to Legolas. "I need to see how the wound is."

Legolas nodded once, before tilting his head at Mirimir, who didn't like the idea one bit. _He will simply remove the bandage, add new herbs, and place a new bandage upon it. That is all._

Still, she was hesitant. _I don't want him touching me._

_Little one, he's the one who stitched you up to begin with._

_I was unconscious then. I'm not now._

Legolas lifted a hand to his head, rubbing at his temples. _Will you allow him close enough to see, at least?_

Distrust flooded him, and filled her eyes. _I don't…_

_You don't want him that close, I know, but I don't know enough about healing to know how well or poorly it's doing compared to where it should be. He needs to see it to know what needs to be put on it… and it would be best if he could do it._

_He can look,_ she finally agreed softly, saying nothing to the rest of it.

"Legolas?"

He sighed and looked up at Elrohir. "You may sit near, but don't touch her… or move suddenly," he added, not relishing the idea of enduring another blast of pain her instantaneous attempt to escape would cause him.

Elrohir slowly nodded. "All right." He moved forward slowly, pausing when Legolas held up a hand to stop him. He sat carefully, trying to go slow enough to keep from causing her worry. "Legolas?"

He nodded and shifted to face her more directly, and gently opened the first several fastenings on her nightgown, parting it carefully so all they could see was the bandage. Moving as minutely as he could, he lightly pulled the bandage off, wincing with her when the fibers stuck in or pulled at the wound. 

Elrohir leaned in just enough to see the wound a bit better, and then pulled back, calling for an herbal paste. Thranduil handed it over, since all the servants had left earlier. Elrohir handed the paste to Legolas. "Be generous with it, but only right along the wound."

Legolas nodded and did as directed, first with the paste, then the bandage. He murmured a few words of healing he remembered from his injuries, resting his hand over the wound, and felt the pain ease slightly. He refastened her gown and kissed her forehead before sitting up again. "For both our sakes, lie still for a while… as in a few days."

_But that's so dull. And my plants need watering._

He chuckled softly. "I'll find you some books, and I can handle watering the plants." _You can speak out loud, you know._

_No, breathing's painful enough._

_I can feel what you are, Mirimir. You're doing all right, at the moment._

_Will it remain that way if I begin chattering inanely?_

He couldn't help a grin at her indignant expression. _At least you're talking somehow. That's a start._

He was halfway to the door, behind Elrohir and his father, when she paused him. _Legolas__?_

_Hmm?_ He asked it while turning back to look at her.

_Why is speech easier like this than out loud?_

_This is just like thinking, vocalization takes practice… another reason you should speak out loud._

She shook her head slightly, stubbornly saying nothing else. 


	23. Exile

Alright, I've got the last chapters fixed (I hope) by the time this is up. So, you can either skip to the division, or look at the review responses for the last two chapters, since I was rushed last update. This chapter is a few weeks to months after the previous. How ever long elven healing takes.

LadyJadePerendhil: My fingers always trip typing that. Who her father is will come in eventually, but will last a bit longer than that, I'd guess. I've never read Ane McCaffrey… I think a friend of mine has, so I could ask her what it's about, but she'd take a year and then bug me to read them, which I don't have time for. So to make it short, what's it like/about? I think someone else asked me once if I had read her stuff, so now I'm really getting curious.

TigressBeam: Thank you, hope you enjoy the updates. I try to get one a week, but I've got extra and hard classes this term, so things have been delayed, and it's coming to another round of papers and exams. 

Lindaleriel: Well, there was the whole Leherim and Elrohir thing… but you're right. Lots more to come!

Iluvien: Your 'she lives!' exclamation made me think of Frankenstein movies for some odd reason. Maybe I'm just in a goofy mood. Post-exam stress relief. That sounds like a syndrome of some sort, doesn't it. Now that she's spoken, you can bet no one's going to let her stay quiet.

Andunewen: I agree that she needs to have lived.

Maren L P: I think I've filled my quota of killing off female love interests for a while. She has a lot more to go through before we can even consider a romance.

Midnight-Insomniac1532: Welcome to the review response section, and thanks for reading. 

Galorin: A fairly long, but labored speech. Ahn. It was needed to save her friend. I go by a rule with my stories: If I can't think up a title for it that seems to fit, then there's something missing, and so it's unworthy of a title. The ones that I think up the title for within a chapter or two are usually the ones that get finished and show up on the net for reader enjoyment. 

Farflung: Chapter 21: I think I responded to at least part of your review last time… right? Well, let's see if I left out anything I shouldn't have. I still love the 'they just look better while they do it' part. I smile every time I come across it. I think I said something for the rest last chapter.  Chapter 22: Yeah, even male elves can be dense. I'm gonna play around with that aspect later, no doubt. 

Elainor: Her father's identity will come to light eventually, and now that she can speak, there more or less has to be more to her, right?

Tara6: Sorry it's confusing. When I write I know exactly what I'm thinking… but it doesn't always come through. When I notice jumps I try to mention it at either the beginning or end of the author's note, if you read/skim those. She is only speaking in their minds at the moment because it's painful for her to do otherwise, and she doesn't feel comfortable with Elrohir in the room, since she doesn't know him. 

Alina11: Well… um… yeah. Don't bet on nothing else happening to her. Did I cross this in angst? I don't remember anymore, but if I didn't, it belongs there. 

To everyone else who reviewed: Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Although a good portion of the Wood would come to hear the sentencing announcement, the trial itself was going to be a very quiet affair. Lady Eiectorm was brought into Thranduil's study, and the case was presented. 

She was accused of endangering the prince's life, for the administering of drugs with which she was not familiar enough to ensure the safe use of, and merely for drugging him in the first place.

"But, my lords, I never gave him the drug!" she protested.

"Did you know of it?" Thranduil demanded.

She hung her head. "Yes."

"And did you obtain the drug for Urgan to put in the Prince's wine?"

"Yes," she agreed meekly.

"Where did you get it?"

"From the healing rooms," she admitted.

"Then you stole supplies from elves who would have used them to save lives, had an emergency occurred. Did you ever think about that? That the herbs you took would have been missed at such a time a life could have been needlessly lost?"

"I left plenty there—" she cut off at a stern glare, and fell silent. "No, my lord."

"I see," Thranduil stated quietly.

One of his advisors began the questioning then. "And you did willingly and maliciously set out to entrap the Prince?"

"I nev—" she stopped as the entire group of elders stared at her with sensor in their gazes. She was well and truly stuck, and she seemed to realize it at last then. "Yes," she sighed.

"You deliberately conceived a child with the plan to pass that child off as the next in the royal line, intending to use that child as leverage to secure for yourself a title and the wealth that goes along with it?"

She hung her head a bit lower, her eyes focused on the mound of her stomach. "Yes," she whispered. 

"Do you hold any opinion as to the matter of the child?"

She rested her hand over her stomach, but mutely shook her head. "No."

"Still, bring Urgan forth. Calline, if you would?"

Calline, a midwife of sorts, stepped forward and placed her hand on Eiectorm's distended abdomen. She spoke to the child, and then nodded to Urgan, who was shoved forward and forced to rest his bound hands over the bulge. "It is so," Calline stated, stepping back.

Thranduil nodded. "You have been busy in your treachery, Lady Eiectorm. But that which has been stated, though by far enough, is not all you have done. You also devised a way to communicate with Urgan, and gave him the name of the one who spoiled your plans. You even managed to provide him with the knife he used to attack the she-elf who stepped forward to spare the Prince of your plots and lies."

"I did no—"

"Silence! I will hear no more of these lies, for lies I know them to be. That dagger was given to your father by a smith who also makes the weapons of the guard. He placed his mark, and that of your house, on the dagger's haft, where we found them on the weapon covered with her blood. Your father had the dagger in his possession not more than a day before, and had commented on its sudden disappearance just prior to the final day of evidence. Why you chose that day to remove it, we may never know, but you took it, and it was used with deadly intent—you are, if not responsible for commanding the attack, responsible for its facilitation." Thranduil leaned back in his seat, and shook his head briefly at the elves before him. "For these crimes, you are hereby banished from Greenwood indefinitely, and stripped of the only title you ever had claim to. If you return at a time not so appointed for pleas, you will be summarily executed." He sighed softly. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sire," she agreed, a few tears running down her cheek.

"Have you anything to say?"

She swallowed and slowly shook her head. "No," she squeaked.

"Your Highness?" Her father stepped forward. "If I may be so bold, could she not remain—even in the dungeons, if you so desire—until the child is born? The child is innocent, no matter the," he sighed heavily, "crimes of his parents."

Thranduil nodded gravely. "You are correct. Until the child is born, Eiectorm shall remain in the care of the healers, under constant watch of the guard. At the time of the child's birth, it is up to her to decide if she wishes her child to accompany her in her exile from Greenwood, or if she would rather leave it with her parents, assuming they are amenable to raising her child."

"We are, of course," her father insisted at once. "Thank you, my lord." He stepped back, a small bit of his worry lifted from his slumped shoulders. 

Thranduil nodded at him, sympathetic to the undeniable pain and devastation this betrayal had undoubtedly caused the elf. But there were other matters to attend to. "As for you, Urgan," he stated harshly, "you would have gladly been the cause of an elf's death, and it is only through an incredible skill of healing that your victim is not wandering the Halls of Mandos. Had she died, you well know what your punishment would have been. As it is, you are also exiled, but not only from Greenwood, but every other elven realm as well, to be broken only upon the instant forfeiture of your own life." Grimly Thranduil watched the cold eyes which watched him. They were still defiant, though somewhat frightened. "Have you anything to say?"

"Nothing," Urgan declared, his eyes slightly wider as he was led out by a few guards, who he knew were under orders not to stop until they were beyond the border of Greenwood, where they would release him. At the same time a rider would be sent to Imladris and one to Lord Celeborn, informing the elven lords of his release and his crimes, assuring he would not be any more welcome there than he was in Greenwood. As he was led out, his eyes narrowed on the she-elf who stood silently beside the Prince, watching him leave.

When he was gone, Legolas rested his hand on her shoulder. _He will not be back. Ever._

_Good. I don't think I would ever like to see his face again._

Legolas smiled ruefully, still feeling like he should stop the guards and engage Urgan in a duel. He had paced for hours after Mirimir was finally sleeping without pain, trying to convince himself to just let the wretched elf go. _Mirimir__, even if we exclude your past history—during which you never spoke—you are the mistress of understatement._

She smiled faintly, looking over her shoulder at him, her dark hair slashing over her face to hide her pale grey eyes.


	24. Breaking

Okay, everyone, quick update… if ffnet ever loads for me to get anything up. But I've got to be quick whether it does or not, or no food for me! And you gotta have something better than an orange to study and work out a fifty minute presentation (last one, thankfully… but it's tomorrow! AHHH!)

Farflung: College will bring it's own problems? I'm in college now, and though first term freshman year it seemed like I had time out the wazoo, I can't stop to breathe anymore! ARGH! Okay, I'm better. I guess it didn't come out quite as I planned, but Lady E was sort of the 'mastermind' behind the scheme… which isn't saying much, all things considered.

LadyJadePerendhil: Thanks for explaining! And just thanks. 

Green*Eyed*Elf*Goddess: Good for you! Have you started posting?

Iluvien: Yeah, I agree. Quick little moment of dry humor.

Galorin: Thank you, but there will be no more of Urgan (as far as I can foresee), and yes, Lady(well, former Lady) E is being held in the healing rooms until the child is born. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Legolas braced himself against the balcony railing, his knuckles white, his head bowed. A shuddering breath escaped him, his hands tightening. He only noticed someone behind him when that someone's arms circled his waist, warmth soaking into his back. He took a deep breath and tried to relax, but found it impossible as the link he shared with Leherim was stretched to breaking. Finally it did break, leaving him feeling numb. 

His muscles went slack, his fingers dropping to his sides as he sank to the floor, his head falling forward, no strength left within him. 

Mirimir held him up as best she could for as long as she could, keeping him from slamming painfully into the stone floor, but she let him go, slowing him, and moved to sit beside him when he was sitting steady enough, facing him, her own breathing ragged as his breath came too quickly, his eyes so dark and pained. 

Finally his breath caught in a soft sob, and he allowed her to pull him forward, his face buried in the angle of neck and shoulder as warm moisture fell onto her skin. She wrapped one arm tightly around him, the other resting over his back, her fingers combing absently through his hair, trying to calm him as he mourned the passing of his sister to the West. She and Elrohir had been sent for not long ago, and Legolas had been antsy since, worried, pained, afraid, spending every moment he could speaking to her. 

Afraid what had apparently happened would happen. 

She took a deep breath and tried to calm her own feelings, knowing that although most of what she felt was coming from him, a good portion of it was her own. She didn't want Leherim to leave… and she would probably miss Elrohir a little… the twerp. 

Legolas took a deep breath, and she could feel him consciously trying to get a grip on his emotions, trying to block the link he shared with her enough she wasn't getting his emotions… but he was unable to as he was overwhelmed by reality again. 

She couldn't imagine what it must be like, to spend your life, with only a handful of years as an exception, with an elf, only to have that elf suddenly gone. The only good thing she could find in this mess was that one day they would see Leherim again. 

His tears were slowing, his breathing easier. Slowly he straightened slightly, and scooted over to the wall, placing his back against it, letting his head fall carelessly back as he fought to control the emotions. His eyes opened for an instant, one hand lifting slightly, fingers open, reaching for her. 

She walked over to him—her old walk, not upright—and allowed him to draw her close, his arms tight around her once she found a comfortable way to sit on him. Feeling him begin to win his internal battle, she leaned her head against his shoulder, listening to his heart slow to a normal rate as the time passed. 

Once she felt nothing volatile from him, but felt enough to know he wasn't blocking himself from her, she relaxed a bit. _Are you going to be okay?_

_I don't know,_ he answered honestly. _Even standing on the shore I didn't feel this strong a desire to cross._

She leaned back, watched his eyes darken as he thought about it again. She set her hands against his cheeks, stroking lightly with her thumbs. _You'll see her again, when you do go._

_Yes… but when will that be?_

_What holds you here?_

_Aragorn, Gimli, my blasted title…_

_The Wood would not like you to die for them. Aragorn and Gimli will age quickly, will they not?_

_Dwarves live much longer than most humans, and Aragorn is not most humans. He may live many years before he dies._

_Can you wait that long, or shall preparations be made for you to follow her? You know she's feeling this loss as keenly as you are._

_I know, but it doesn't make it easier. I will stay until Aragorn has died._

_Are you sure you can?_

_No._

Mirimir tilted her head at him, seeing weariness from weeks of uncertainty gnawing at him. That much he could do something about. She got up, pulled him up beside her, and walked with him to the rooms he had shared with Leherim and Elrohir. Now the door to their sitting room, and so their room, was closed, blocking off the view. _You need to sleep… shall you be able to here?_

_I'll have to, won't I?_

Her gaze fell, no answer presenting itself. She looked up after a moment to see Legolas staring blankly at the wall. _Legolas?_

He shook himself slightly and ran a hand through his hair, his other plucking at the fastenings on his tunic. 

_Umm…__ Goodnight,_ she murmured softly, turning around as the tunic parted. 

_Night it is. _His voice was soft, but she could still catch the bleak tone.

_Legolas, the sun will rise in the morning, and the stars are out tonight._

_And I can see neither._

She frowned, nibbling her lip. _Perhaps you should travel for a while. Go see those friends of yours, get out of the mountain… away from your memories for a little while._

_Maybe,_ he agreed, his voice filled with exhaustion. His hand settled on her shoulder, pulling her slightly around so he could kiss her cheek. _I shall be all right in time, little one. _He rested his head against hers for a moment, then stepped back. _Go on and get some rest yourself… I know you miss her as well._


	25. A storm is coming

Alright… I've had a couple requests for a Leherim point of view. It's not going to happen, but you can assume it was probably much the same, with Elrohir instead of Mirimir. Also, Leherim is NOT dead. She and Elrohir sailed into the west. I repeat: NOT DEAD! Eventually she'll be seen again.

Okay, I had a complaint that the term she-elf is a derogatory one, equivalent to b****. I don't believe that, sorry to anyone who does, but I can't think of another way to make the differentiation between males and females. I utterly _refuse_ to call any she-elf a woman. They are not of men, and shouldn't be called as if they are. Personally, if I were a she-elf, I would be a lot more annoyed being called woman than anything else. What do you guys think?

Farflung: Yeah, I remember that mess. Mine was worse though because I put off deciding where to go until the day before the final one to enroll for the next year. Sorry if it was a bit abrupt, but they both knew long ago that one day she would leave and he would stay. After all, Elrond had nothing keeping him there, and if the twins didn't go with him they would have to remain on middle-earth to one day die. So Leherim, of course, went with her husband.

Green *Eyed*Elf*Goddess: Makes sense to me. Let me know when you're posting.

To everyone who reviewed: Thank you, I appreciate it… and I was admittedly shocked when I apparently got no reviews because their e-mail system failed. Keep that in mind if you reviewed recently with a question in your review that I haven't tried to answer. And spring break is coming up, so after next week, there won't be updates for one/one & a half weeks. After that I'll go back to at least one update per week.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Even as Legolas smiled and lifted a hand to greet his friend, he felt Mirimir study the short being curiously.

_What is it?_

_That's Gimli,_ he murmured in amusement, getting down to properly meet with the dwarf. "It is good to see you, Master Dwarf."

"Well, Master Elf, I must say I am glad to see you as well. And who is this?" Gimli tilted his head curiously at Mirimir. "I would say the princess, but I always thought your sister would share your golden looks."

"That she does. This is Mirimir," he reached up and settled his hands about her waist, tugging her from the back of his horse to the ground. "Mirimir, this is Gimli."

"I have heard of you," Gimli stated, looking her up and down. "And for what he told me of you, he told me neither that you were so lovely, nor that you were of his height."

Mirimir blinked, then smiled faintly. "I have read much about dwarves… and you do not seem to be one of them, despite what Legolas has said. He has told me of you as well… and did not tell me you were so short."

Gimli laughed heartily, his small dark eyes dancing with mirth. "Then there is something the elves fail to do perfectly—recount to other races the differences between them."

"Enough!" Legolas laughed softly. "Are you going to ride with us, Gimli?"

"I will travel with you… but I still have no great love for horses." 

Mirimir smiled. "Then I am not alone in my preference for my own feet," she stated, lifting teasing eyes from Gimli to Legolas.

For his part, he crooked a brow and looked at the pair of them with mocking disgust. "To scorn such a fine creature as this horse has proven himself to be is a crime against the very fabric of the world."

"I have nothing against the horse, Legolas, merely in riding him." Mirimir sent him a slight smile and set off walking. 

_Mirimir__?_

_What?_

_Gondor__ is to the South._

_Aren't I going South?_

_No… If you keep going that way, you're going to end up in the West, eventually._

_Oh._ She was silent for a long moment, having come to a complete stop. Finally she turned around, tilting her head. _Well?_

Legolas chuckled softly and tilted his head in the correct direction. "This way," he instructed. 

The three… and the horse… continued walking towards Minas Tirith. It took them several days from where they had met with Gimli, but their pace was not hurried, as the two friends shared the times between their last meeting, and jested over things from the quest. 

Their arrival was expected, and they were led into the great hall at once, where Aragorn and Arwen rose from their throne to greet them. 

"Welcome, my dear friends," Aragorn murmured, greeting both in the custom of their people. "Legolas? Who is this lovely lady?"

Legolas lifted a brow slightly. "Mirimir. She agreed to accompany me, to see more of Middle-Earth." 

Arwen frowned slightly when she looked at Mirimir's eyes, and scanned her face quickly. "You have seen things of horror greater than any who endured the quest… save only, perhaps, the ring bearer."

Mirimir frowned, and slowly shook her head. "I don't know what you mean, Evenstar."

"You shall not ever be able to entirely forget, no matter how hard you try." Arwen's frown deepened, before she called for a servant, instructing the young girl to show Mirimir to a guest room. When Mirimir was safely out of earshot, Arwen turned to Legolas. "What happened to her?"

"She doesn't speak of it," he defended slightly.

"She tries to forget… but she should not be allowed to do so."

"Why would she want to remember, Arwen?" He turned slightly, his fists clenching as he recalled her pitiful initial state. "When first I laid eyes upon her she looked less human than the wild men do. She had shackles and metal over her head and ears. She was on the verge of death—beaten, burned, covered in dirt, ash and blood. She walked as any animal—on all fours, crouched. She expected blows from every male around… and was uncomfortable with anyone, though she only expected physical abuse from males. It took many years for her to grow comfortable enough she didn't hide and cower when she heard my voice…" In agitation he ran a hand through his hair. "It was only in the last few years that she began walking as any would have expected. In truth, I did not know of her height until I returned from our adventure. Speech came a while after that, slow and hesitant—she had been told she would die if ever she spoke. She remembered that much, Arwen, and it held her silent for far too long."

His three friends looked after him in concern when he turned away, his shoulders tense. Arwen was the only one to speak. "As it was with Leherim, it is with her, isn't it?"

Slowly he nodded. "Yes. From the day our families united."

"Would you speak so I can understand?" Gimli growled.

"It is not something they would wish told to the entire hall," Aragorn stated softly. "A most horrifying tale."

"Not a tale, Elessar," Arwen murmured, a faint frown on her brow as she studied Legolas, "merely a statement. An instant in a life spent in unknown despair. She seeks to forget it, tries to convince herself it is nothing but nightmares, false memories. If she is allowed to do so, a good portion of what she has become will be destroyed… as will she, eventually." 

"How can forgetting that which nearly killed her destroy her?"

"If she forgets the truth, she will eventually seek it out, not knowing why she forgot it. And when she finds it, what then? When she has succeeded in forgetting everything before she was taken to the palace, how will she survive the return of memory when she finds the truth?"

Legolas's breath hissed in as he understood what she was getting at. "But how could she ever forget it? She knows it was her father who told her not to speak."

"She knows it now, yes. But one day she may convince herself it was just a dream, an illusion."

"She is too intelligent for that."

"An injured heart often overwhelms the mind, Legolas. I said she would be unable to forget… I hoped to convince her, for it is too possible that she will succeed."

He frowned at her. "Then what is to be done?"

"You have the ability to reach her, Legolas. Use the gift you share to keep her aware of the truth."

"At what cost?" he asked bitterly, not relishing the idea of forcing Mirimir to speak of something that was indescribably hideous, if the slight remnants of emotion from her nightmares she unintentionally sent him were of any indication. 

"The connection cannot be permanently closed, can it?"

"Leherim and I never tried."

Arwen sighed softly, and shook her head. "I don't know, Legolas. She is your concern more than mine. I just hope you do what's best… for you both." 

He frowned at the nearly inaudible addition, noting that Aragorn heard it as well, though he would bet she hadn't intended that. He shook his head slightly and crossed his arms over his chest. "Are we to be shown rooms as well, or shall we take our rest as we did when last traveling together?"

"Speak for yourself, Elf. I never went on so little sleep in my life as when I had to keep up with you."

He smiled faintly at his vertically challenged friend, but lifted a brow at Gondor's Queen. 

She made a small motion, and a servant stepped forward. "You will show Prince Legolas to the room to the west of Mirimir's. Gimli is to be placed across the hall."

The servant's face registered shock, first at the declaration of his title, then at her decision for his room, but she said nothing, leading them quietly away. She paused, opening the door for Gimli first, then turning to the room across the hall. "This is your room… your highness."

He sighed softly, muttering under his breath about shaking Arwen. 

The girl looked up at him in shock. "Beg pardon?" 

He shook his head dismissively. "Nothing," he murmured, switching his tongue so she knew what he was saying.

"Need you anything?"

"Nothing I cannot find." Hopefully.

The servant bowed her head and backed out of the room. 

_Mirimir__?_

_Hmm?_

He smiled faintly. _Sorry. Go back to resting._

_Hmm._

His smile grew to a true grin as her presence faded into absent slumber again. With a quick turn of his gaze about the room, he understood the cause of the servant's second instant of surprise, and reconsidered whether or not he should shake Arwen. Still, announcing his title here was only a way to give the humans another reason to be uncomfortable around him. 

Pressing against the shutters until they swung out he was able to catch a bit of the breeze, letting his head rest against the cool stone. He did his best to block the slight twinges he was getting from Mirimir's dreams, needing a moment to think on his own.

"I'm sorry if I spoke at a poor time."

He smiled faintly. "You are not," he accused softly. 

"No, I suppose not." There was a faint smile in her voice. "How was Elrohir?"

"He was well, last I could speak with Leherim." 

"Good. He was always happy with her."

"And she with him." 

Louder footsteps echoed down the hall. "Legolas, I—" Aragorn stopped, his normally confident steps halting as abruptly as his words. "I think I'm interrupting something."

"Just catching up on family news," Legolas offered softly when Arwen remained silent. He turned at last to see them, smiling faintly as he saw Aragorn try to grapple with a bit of jealously the man knew was ridiculous. 

"Ah," Aragorn stated after a moment, having won out over his emotions once more. "Well, the meal shall be ready soon."

"Then I shall wake Mirimir, shan't I?" Legolas smiled faintly at Aragorn's slight annoyance when he didn't move. _Mirimir__, wake up._

_No._

_Come on, little one. Aragorn and Arwen are in here, and I rather think they'd like you to join us._

_Here where?_

_You know that quite well._ He blinked slightly, seeing a look exchanged between the King and Queen. _Come along._

"You needn't make me sound like a recalcitrant child, Legolas," she chided softly, walking through the connecting door that stood between their rooms. 

"Sorry," he offered softly, smiling as she blinked a bit of glassiness from her eyes. 

"Hmm," she murmured softly, reaching past him to close the window. "Storm's coming," she explained. 

He looked into her eyes, pale grey and filled with shadows left over from her dreams. "So I see," he agreed softly.


	26. Questions

Alright, I apparently opened a can of worms with the she-elf question. I realize if you say he-man, she-man, etc, etc, etc, it gets really confusing and really stupid sounding. I'm not using all of these. I'm simply using she-elf, because it is already part of the fan-fiction world. I didn't start it, it just sunk in my head as a good alternative to calling all females maid or something else which—in my mind—puts them at a much lower place than, say, a prince. Not that stories about the prince and the maid aren't interesting. I've read a few that are (and unfortunately don't look likely to ever finish). I still refuse to call any elf a being of men. They are above men. They are not men. How would you like to be called a chimp? All of that said, I appreciate the responses, both ways, but I'm a bit frazzled right now and I would love to consider the debate closed. Some have said Tolkien used it, others that he hasn't, and I haven't have the time to sneeze at the moment, much less read everything Tolkien ever wrote and reconceptualize my entire view of his world in the middle of two stories. Okay, deep, relaxing breath…

LadyJadePerendhil: Wow, I actually spelled it write without looking at the review! No, Mirimir isn't a 'weather witch'. They have good eyes, and can see it coming. I would guess elves are a bit more sensitive than humans to changes in the atmosphere along with the earth. Even humans can feel changes in the weather, to some degree, so if seeing it doesn't float your boat, think of it that way. I considered changing the writing somehow to reflect the elven, but I think most of the time it won't make a difference what they're speaking. Yes, yes, nightmares on the way… soon. 

FarFlung: I don't know if they go or not. I re-read the place where I got that from, and it looks ambivalent to me. So… I dunno. But in this fic, they go. Yeah… the sense of direction? I can find my way home… as long as I know exactly where I am. Otherwise I have to stop and ask someone. It's not that I can't tell by the sun, or moss on trees or anything… I'm just usually so far away I could overshoot or undershoot by up to a hundred miles if I'm wrong… Not to mention the trees don't get much visible moss when you're driving. My map always seems to be wherever I'm not. How in the world do people in the middle of nowhere—no trees, distinguishing rock formations etc expect to get where they're going without being miles out of the way? I'm totally off point. Oh Well. Can't believe I'm typing this much. I just spent nearly eight hours typing up my term paper. Psych classes are so helpful for writing decent characters. Yeah, I felt like throwing Aragorn in that way. Do you know if it's true that Legolas and Arwen were an 'item' at one time? Something I've heard while wandering around this site. Okay, warning you: from here I have no time for another… eh… two weeks? I'm not sure anymore… my brain is fried… which will explain any errors above… and perhaps below…

And to everyone else I haven't responded to… sorry, but I've been staring at a computer for so long today my eyes are going blurry!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You didn't enjoy your visit with them, not as I expected."

Legolas smiled faintly. "I enjoyed it."

"It felt hollow."

"I know."

Mirimir frowned, tilting her head at him. "Of course you know, it was your feeling. But why won't you admit it?"

"I do admit it."

"Then why say you enjoyed it?"

"I did." His smile grew, his eyes shadowed slightly, but laughing at her. He lifted his hand to her cheek, the touch light and gentle, despite the slight rough places he'd worn on his skin through years of warrior training. "But it did not do what you or I hoped. While slightly strengthened in my decision to remain here until Aragorn's death, it seemed to partially reinforce how long it will be… and how far from Leherim I am."

"And that you don't have it worse than some other elves?"

He bowed his head slightly, but nodded. 

Mirimir frowned, absently aware he was getting things ready for them to continue. She felt she should pry into the reason for his silence, but she couldn't begin to guess what the cause was. 

"Ready to go?" he asked softly, turning to her once more. He frowned faintly, cupping her chin in his hand. "Mirimir?" 

She blinked herself back to the present. "Hmm?"

"Ready?"

"For what?"

"Heading back."

"But we just left."

He smiled crookedly, his eyes lightening slightly. "I meant head back to Greenwood." 

She looked past him, saw the horse looking between them with an almost questioning look. "I suppose walking—"

"Is out of the question." His smile grew, his eyes lightening even farther until they were almost as bright as normal. "Yes," he agreed. His large hands settled at her waist, lifting her onto the horse's back. He settled himself behind her, one hand resting on his thigh, the other wrapped loosely around her. With a few soft words the horse headed off. 

Mirimir relaxed quickly enough. She was beginning to get used to riding. Sort of. It helped that she didn't have to do anything, just sit and sway with the horse's movements. Even that was more or less debatable, especially when she got bored and leaned against Legolas for a nap. He would always shift so he held her more firmly, would usually kiss her crown, but said not a word until they stopped, if then. 

But at that moment she wasn't bored. She was confused. 

Ever since the first night he had come in her room when she had woke from some horrible image she couldn't escape, he had always managed to be there for her in some form or other. Which explained why she felt she owed the same to him. 

It was hard. Hard to accept, to believe, harder still to follow through. She didn't know how to help him, had no idea what was wrong. Every attempt she'd ventured to discover what he hid had come up without results, and she was out of ideas. 

Absently she started to hunch up defensively, but one shaky moment was enough to remind her she was not in a good place to do such, and enough for Legolas to tighten his hold on her. 

_What's the matter?_

She shook her head slightly and regained her seating. _Nothing._

_Why don't I believe that?_

Because he was a very intelligent elf. She sighed. _Because it's not true?_

_That might have something to do with it,_ he agreed, humor mingling with concern in his mental tone. _So, what's the matter?_

Unconsciously her hands tightened. "There is nothing the matter with me!" she snapped.

_Then why are you about to draw blood?_

_What?_

He moved his hand, making her realize she had been holding onto it tightly with both of hers, and that she was pressing it against her middle. _Well?_

_Sorry, I didn't realize…_

_Just tell me what's wrong, Mirimir._

She sighed and looked down at their hands, both of hers currently resting against the one he had placed around her, since she had merely released her tight hold. Lifting her fingers now, she found marks from her fingers wrapped over his fingers and about his wrist. The angry marks stared up at her for a few moments, but they faded quickly, leaving no sign. She traced where they had been, rested her fingers lightly over what could have become bruises. _I hurt you._

_No you didn't._

_Yes._

He shook his head. _No, you didn't. You just squeezed a bit._

_Would you tell me if I had?_

_Yes._

The answer came quickly enough she knew he hadn't thought about it. She sighed and leaned back, tilting her head to the side to rest against his neck. _So if I haven't hurt you, what possible reason could you have for not telling me what's wrong?_

His heart stopped for an instant, before it kicked up in speed. _What?_

_Something is wrong, Legolas. Something beyond Leherim's absence. Whatever it is, it started not long ago, and you have avoided every attempt I have been able to think up to discover the cause._

He sighed, his eyes closed when she looked up. _You are right._

_And?_

He smiled faintly, but still refused to look at her. _You are also impatient._

_Legolas__,_ she protested.

He looked down at her, his eyes shadowed. _It is something Arwen said._

_Is that all? Or do you pity her?_

_Pity?__ Certainly not. She enjoys being Aragorn's queen._

_But she will one day die._

_Yes._

She frowned. _That doesn't concern you?_

_It was her choice. She loved Aragorn too much to choose otherwise. Why should I be concerned, one way or another?_

_I don't mean Arwen… I mean death._

His eyes darkened, disbelief showing for a moment. _Um… little one, I know you haven't spent a lot of time around friendly elves… but you do realize elves are more or less immortal, right?_

She frowned at him. _But elves die all the time._

_No, only in battle, or when they lose the will to live… I thought you knew that._

Yes, that made sense. Why had she thought otherwise? She frowned, but could come up with no reason, dropping her head to his shoulder instead. 

_Mirimir__?_

_Hmm?_

He was silent for a long moment. Then he shook his head, leaning back slightly, forcing her to sit upright. He turned her sideways with one hand so he could see her, cupped her chin and forced her to look at him with the other as the horse slowed to a stop without being urged to do so. _Mirimir__, what's your name?_

_What?_ She frowned at him. "What are you talking about?"

_What's your name? How old are you? Who are your parents? Have you any siblings? Where were you born?_

She gaped at him, looking into stormy blue eyes. _What are you talking about? You know all of it._

_I know none of it,_ he countered, a frown slowly drawing his golden brows together. _Your name?_

_Mirimir__.__ You know that._

_I doubt that is the name you were given at birth._

_Then how do I have it?_

He sighed and spoke to the horse, insisting he begin moving once more. The horse flattened his ears and stomped, but took the mouthful of grass he'd gotten while his master was distracted and began walking again. _I gave it to you._

_What?_

_Don't you remember? Not long after you came, Leherim wanted to give you a name. She asked me about it, and I decided Mirimir would work. She agreed, and there you go. But what was your name before? _Legolas frowned as her eyes went blank, pale grey staring at him in confusion. _Mirimir__?_

_I… I don't know. I don't remember. There's nothing before Leherim._

He sighed and shook his head. _There is, little one. Perhaps thousands of years. We have been able to find out little to tell you…_

_Little?__ But not nothing?_

Seeing the trees ahead, he urged some speed from his horse, unsure what he would have told her if that hadn't distracted her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	27. Plans

Alright. I'm back. Not necessarily a good thing—all new classes. Sorry the updates were a bit more sporadic than usual before I left. I had too many term papers, finals, job interviews to set up/prepare for, extra work for my current job, packing to do for my trip (to the interviews), and one of my life-long friends passed away. So, obviously, things were a little hectic on my end. I nearly threw in the towel on my stories completely. 

But then I looked at my reviews, and though I'm beginning to wonder at my own sanity for continuing this, as some people actually like my plot, my characters… I'm continuing for them. 

And responding to their comments/questions:

Farflung: My two weeks weren't all that great… but I'm less sleep deprived! That's a good thing, right? I'm still playing around with how exactly to begin this whole upcoming mess. But a mess it will be. It really has to be, I think. Well, no omelets without breaking eggs, right? I hate eggs. Okay, I'm rambling…

Tara6: Yeah, you can believe Arwen. Some say she turns into a woman when she makes her choice, but I still think of her as an elf, so she retains much of her elvenness (is that a word??). 

LadyJadePerendhel: Um… good point. I kindof forgot about that. Well, I'll find some place for it… just not in this chapter. Feel free to bring it up again if I forget.

Maren L P: If she forgets, eventually she would wonder what she had forgotten, and try to find it again. The first time around, she survived because she didn't know there was anything else. She didn't know things were supposed to be better. Reliving her memories after living in mountain with the royal family would throw things in stark relief. The horrors she went through could destroy her if she managed to forget them only to recall them. If, however, she remembers them, even if in a diluted way, she should be all right. 

Princess Myra: I was a bit sorry to see her go, too, but I always thought the twins went with Elrond when he goes to the undying lands, so she had to go. As no one would ask her about things that all could see would be painful, it would be quite hard to pinpoint exactly where she began forgetting. Psychologically speaking, she could have begun forcing herself to forget when she began to get more comfortable with Legolas, as her past experience wouldn't allow her to be comfortable with him in the least. As she couldn't shut Legolas out, she shut out the reason she felt she should. Cognitive dissonance theory, if you're bored. 

Green*Eyed*Elf*Goddess: Did I answer everything?

Emeraleyes: Thanks! I tend to get bored with really explicit, over-written stories which pin down every thought and idea. If I wanted that, I'd buy another textbook to read. Glad you enjoy.

Thanks to the rest of you who reviewed my story! On to more… though since I've been gone, this chapter may be considered 'filler'. Well, better than nothing, right? After all, this way you know I'm still alive, and still writing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"What's the matter?"

Legolas lowered his unseeing gaze and shook his head. "You as well?"

"What do you mean?"

Legolas sighed and turned to face his father. "Leherim never let me stew, Mirimir doesn't—which is why I've come here, since she knows she's not allowed—and now you."

"Why should anyone let you stew? What is the matter, son?" 

With a shake of his head Legolas folded himself into one of the chairs. "Mirimir can speak, yet she never speaks of what brought her here. I have come across evidence now that she is forgetting it."

"Forgetting? That's not possible!"

"That's what I thought… but it seems to be true. She will recall nothing before Leherim. Forgetting is not something elves do. Why should she, no matter how painful her past memories must be?"

"Maybe she isn't really forgetting at all. Perhaps she is just refusing to speak—"

"Father, I felt her confusion, and I saw the blankness in her eyes. She doesn't know what her name was, doesn't know—"

"Maybe… Maybe she never had a name, Legolas. She was in a bad way when she was brought here."

"True, but if she had always been treated so horribly she would never have made it to being brought to us." 

"Wasn't she extremely close?"

"Yes," Legolas agreed softly, closing his eyes. He laid his head back on the edge of the chair, and let out a sigh. "But she has come back, learned to read, started speaking… She seems as any other elf, save for her hair, but she isn't. She lived through atrocities we would never consider an elf capable of creating, and she has said nothing about it. She needs to remember, to let it go."

Thranduil considered his son and the problem at hand for a long moment. He turned his gaze from contemplating a bit of dust to Legolas's darker than cheerful eyes. "You fear for her."

"Yes." Legolas nodded slightly.

"You worry if she forgets, and is later forced to remember, she will be unable to handle the truth." 

"Yes. Arwen suggested that would happen."

"Do you believe it?"

"It makes perfect sense," Legolas frowned. "And yet, I am not sure. I want her to be happy, but I do worry about what will happen if she does allow herself to forget, and then one day searches for the memories. Right now, she is happy. If I pry, she won't be. She'll remember, be hurt all over again… and it will be my doing. I swore I would never hurt her. Several times."

"But if it is ultimately for her own good—"

Legolas shook his head. "She would be hurt, and I don't know that she would take the time to consider the truth about it, that I would only ever hurt her if I thought it would ultimately be in her best interest—and that is a trust I will not fail, not as long as I have any choice whatsoever."

"Then what are you to do?"

He sighed and closed his eyes once more. "Just be there, poke and prod her as gently as I can, and always be there when she begins aching, to help it go away."

"Isn't that kind of against the point?"

"The point is for her to remember, Father. Not for her to be hurt. If I can get her to remember without her sinking back into despair, then by all means, that's the way I want to go." He stood up abruptly, and paced over to the painting he had been staring at originally. He saw as much of the detail and design at that moment as he had to begin with. Absolutely none.

"How do you plan to do that?"

Silent for a long moment, Legolas finally frowned and lowered his head slightly. "She has nightmares. Nearly every night, in fact. I don't always wake up, because they aren't always that bad, but I usually do, because they usually are." He stopped there, shook his head slightly at his own idea and ran a hand through his hair.

"And?"

"And… and I can insist she tell me about them. In truth, I don't know why I haven't pressed for details before this… Well, perhaps that's not true. If I didn't ask, I wouldn't know."

"And as long as you don't know, you can sleep at night without those images haunting your dreams?"

With a shameful nod, Legolas turned. "Yes. I know what she will tell me will stun and horrify me—would horrify almost any elf and most humans, even though I've no doubt she would gloss over the details to spare me as much as she could. Orcs were treated better by the dark powers than she was by the one who held the keys to her bonds."

"You assume she will tell you," Thranduil muttered dryly.

"If she doesn't, there is another way I can find out… which I would rather not use."

"What are you considering?" Thranduil frowned, his eyes narrowing. "You aren't planning on—"

"A form of sharing I tried once with Leherim. It was not wholly successful, but with practice, I believe I could enter Mirimir's memories and see for myself what she is forgetting, hiding."

"Then could she not do the same thing to you?"

"Yes." Legolas shrugged. "I have nothing to hide from her—even memories from when she came I would not be against sharing with her, should she so wish."

"Then instead of taking her memories, give her some. Share yours with her, ask her to reciprocate. Show her your mother, ask to see hers. Nag her when she wakes you with bad dreams, but I do not wish to have her complain to me—ever—about you digging through her mind in such a way! And what do you know of such? Couldn't it be dangerous for you, as well? You said this was different from the way Galadriel touched your mind, so couldn't it be—"

"Enough!" Legolas held up his hands and forced a crooked smile. "Enough, Father. It is a very last resort, which I will only seriously consider once I am convinced there is no other way, and that she is in danger."

Thranduil looked at his son grimly. "If you are correct about her, if she is beginning to forget… then she is indeed in grave danger."


	28. Nightmares & Nightgowns

Okay, I should probably clear something up here. Legolas will only go into Mirimir's memories as a last resort. He has other options… I would like to welcome (and thank) all new reviewers for coming to join the ride—hope you continue to enjoy! All that said (which is far less than usual, ne?) on to the chapter. I will warn you this weekend was hectic and I only proof-read it once… *Cringe*

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She bolted upright, breathing too quickly, sweat dripping down her cheeks and behind her ears. She automatically began curling in a ball, her sticky skin too hot under any other circumstances to tolerate the closeness. With a faint whimper she curled ever tighter, closing her eyes, trying to blot out the pictures that had followed her into wakefulness. 

They faded, but only faintly. She knew that if she tried to take rest once more the images would reappear, and refuse to be so simply pushed aside the second time. She bit her lip, and gazed at the door in thoughtful silence. 

He was awake. She could feel him pacing in his room. But he wasn't coming. He had made that quite clear last night. As long as she refused to share with him the details of her nightmares, he would leave her to deal with them on her own. 

She wished he wouldn't. Having him near, his warmth, his scent, the gentle strength of his presence… it all kept the images away. With him laying beside her she never had bad dreams, only happy ones, memories of him and Leherim. Sometimes Elrohir as well, though there were few of him. The little twerp.

Forcing her breathing to calm, she slowly laid back down, her eyes not focused on the door she watched. In his room, Legolas was paused, holding himself tense as he waited to see if she would be all right. 

Well, she was no longer panicked, her dream fragments were fading a bit more, now that she was thinking about anything else. But they were only waiting, waiting for her to relax, to try and rest. There was only one hope for it—she would have to remain awake. 

She bolted up from forbidden rest a moment later, having seen a face float before her eyes. Before she could think about it, feel anything connected to those features and those eyes, she was out the door and down the hall, running swiftly until she hesitated as she reached the door to the outer chambers the prince and princess had shared for so many years. Finally she pushed the door opened and turned to find dark eyes fastened upon her, his hand upon the hilt of his sword—which rested against the door frame—though it remained sheathed. Seeing her, he let his hand drop, but watched her warily. 

She drew her lower lip into her mouth and looked at him for a long moment. Simply being in the same room with him made many of the things fade away. Her fears seemed foolish, considering what she could recall of her dream now. 

But he was waiting, holding himself stiff and still apart from her, his eyes traveling slowly between her eyes and her lips, silent in all ways, his very silence reminding her of his previous words. He would be her comfort, but only if she shared why she needed him to be. 

In truth, just his presence for the few instants she had remained standing just inside the outer door, seeing him, his strength, his eyes dark with compassion and sympathy, had helped her so much she could leave now and be assured she would rest well for the remainder of the night. Then what of the next night? The one after that? The honest truth was she would have to return, or face the night alone, and afraid to do so. The time before he had first come to her, had helped her, was a time of endless nights and restless days. She could not return… she _would_ not return to that. 

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, steeling herself for what she knew she had to do. She clasped her hands together, and bowed her head. "I don't… don't recall much now… He was laughing at something, there was fire, ash. It was hot. Insufferably hot, and someone was screaming. The walls were red." She frowned, shook her head slightly and shifted her arms so she was hugging herself, feeling cold. "My eyes burned, but from what—unshed tears, ash or dust—I cannot recall. Then he stopped laughing, and somehow everything was worse. That is when I awoke." She looked up at him, found he had not moved, though his eyes had grown even darker. "I do not understand it, but the laugh, the red, the silence…" she closed her eyes and swallowed painfully. "They terrify me," she admitted on a choked whisper, tightening her arms as a shiver trickled down her spine. 

Strong, gentle arms surrounded her, and a light kiss was pressed to her cheek as he held her. Without a word he caught her up into his arms and swung around, carrying her through his sitting room to his bedroom, to his bed, where he lowered her, and then himself. He kissed her temple and turned her onto her side, allowing her to curl up slightly as she found she always wished to after thinking about something so horrible. He curled around her, warmth touching her from head to toe. With a shuddering sigh she closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek against the hand he had rested in front of her, unable to speak, even in their minds, of her thankfulness for his silence and the comfort of his warmth. 

Morning came without further incident, and she blinked a few times to find she was watching Legolas fasten his tunic. He glanced over at her, and the left corner of his mouth twitched up in a faint hint of a smile. 

_Good morning,_ he murmured.

_Morning,_ she agreed, slowly sitting up. _How late in the morning?_

_Not very._ His words were reassuring, until he spoke again. _Still, you may wish to get dressed before breakfast is taken to your room._

She frowned swiftly and looked around, before slowly getting up. She frowned down at her semi-sheer gown, not relishing the idea of wandering the halls to her own room in it when she was likely to meet up with any elves, but especially male elves. 

_Mirimir__?_

She glanced up.

He smiled truly then, holding up a bundle of green fabric. _As I said,_ he chuckled softly, tossing her the mass. 

She unfurled a dress, one she had not seen before. _Whose is it?_

_Yours._

_It is not! _She had never seen it before, and she would certainly have remembered this.

_It is,_ he insisted. _Leherim__ had it made for you, but they were called away before she could give it to you. I forgot about it until I was thinking you would need something to wear this morning._

She looked down at the fabric, and slowly shook her head. _It is too fine._

_If you are uncomfortable in it, then hurry to your room to change. I have already received summons from Father this morning, so I must leave now. Hopefully I shall see you by dinner…_

_That bad?_

_He rarely summons me before breakfast. To do so indicates a certain degree of panic in the old boy._

Mirimir looked down at the dress, tracing a silver leaf stitched into the full overskirt. _And if you do not?_

_Do not what?_ he asked absently, fastening his hair into the small braids he always wore to keep his hair out of the way when on duty as prince… or warrior. 

_Do not see me by dinner._

_Then I don't see you for the meal, and you either eat alone or come to the great hall._

_That's not… not what I was thinking of._

_Oh?_ he looked around for his dagger, then slid it onto his belt before looking up. He flinched at her expression. _I'm sorry I'm distracted,_ he soothed quietly, stopping his efforts to get ready long enough to wrap his hands around her arms, leaning his forehead against hers. _But when Father summons like this, he needs me as soon as possible._

_I have nothing against you going to see your father. I merely wish to know how things stand._

_Things?_

_Between us,_ she explained in exasperation. He froze in his movements, so she continued. _Shall you come to me when my dreams turn to nightmares, or shall I be running to you once more?_

He turned to her, his eyes dark as he brushed her cheek lightly with his knuckles. _As long as you share what troubles you, I shall come to you._

_Are you certain?_

_I have done it for many years, little one. I am used to it, and no one thinks twice about seeing me exit the library in the morning. As for you now, you may find it wise to leave through the secret exit._

_Secret exit?_

_Mmm__.__ The tapestry out of place in Leherim's sitting room hides a half door, the tunnel from which leads to a large bush in one of the smaller gardens. The metal bar on the left will come out if you push up and then pull it towards you. Try to put it back when you're done, though. _He kissed her forehead and left without another thought or glance. 

She rolled her eyes at the ceiling and shook her head, before self-consciously closing the door so she could dress. It had been made for someone who wore beautiful things, hand stitched with loving care so each little leaf was of perfect placement and design. With a shake of her head she knew she would be changing as soon as she could. 

She checked the little escape tunnel Legolas had told her of, and though normally she would have taken it without second guessing him, she hesitated. Even from here she could smell dirt, but more than dirt, grime. The tunnel itself was so short she would have to walk as she used to, before she could walk upright, to get through… which would be fine, except for the dress. It would sorely need a cleaning after crawling through murky tunnels, and she couldn't be sure it would hold up to such a scrubbing as would be required, especially considering the finely embroidered patterns. 

Despite her opinion of the dress, based mostly on its practicality, Leherim had apparently had it made for her, so she would someday possibly wear it for her, and until then, she would pull it out once in a while just so she could marvel over the design and stitch work. Which made traipsing through dirt and mud not an option. Taking a deep breath, she pushed her hair behind her ears—she really needed to cut it shorter, it was almost brushing her shoulders—and stuck her head out into the hall, escaping the chambers quickly, trying to act as if she was supposed to be coming from the prince's room. 

Still, that wasn't to say she wasn't just as glad when she reached her room without having come across anyone. She leaned against the solid old door in relief, smiling faintly at the picture she must have presented, attempting to be inconspicuous as she snuck down the hall in a radiant dark green and silver dress that was designed for a ball and twirling dances. With a quick shake of her head she moved away from the door, changing quickly. 

She froze when she realized she had left her nightgown in Legolas's room… and the servant who tidied his quarters was undoubtedly there already, making retrieving it impossible. 

_What is it?_

_I thought you were busy?_

_I felt a twinge, and I have a moment. What is it?_

_Well,_ she hesitated a moment longer, then sighed. _I got back to my room all right, I didn't see or hear anyone…_

_But?_

_But I left my nightgown out._

Soft laughter came through to her. _Is that all?_

_Legolas__! It's one thing for them to know the truth, another to spread rumors…_

_And how do you suppose they would manage that? All of your clothing, with the exception of anything Leherim had made for you, was designed more or less in general for any female who calls the halls her home. There is no way they would be able to guess who it belongs to, especially considering the mix-ups they sometimes have in laundry with such generic items. A dress, they may have recognized, but not your nightgown, little one._

She frowned faintly, and bit her lip, only partially convinced. _Are you sure?_

_Yes, I'm sure. Relax, Mirimir. Though they may speculate, they can know nothing for sure._

_Gee, that makes me feel better._

Silence. 

_Legolas__?_

_Sorry, busy again._

She exhaled heavily and shook her head, moving to her bathing room for some water for her thirsty plants, trying to convince herself—mostly without success—that he was probably right, and that she should forget about it. 


	29. Lashing out

I know the romance here is very slow in coming and will likely be very subtle when it does come. But at the moment, he will tell people she is like a friend or a sister to him. His feelings may not be so perfectly clear… that's for you to decide. I haven't thought up anything to do with the nightgown… I actually was going to let it slide, but if anyone has great ideas, let me know. It is really, really cold in here. I think it's warmer outside. My fingers don't want to hit the right keys—too stiff… must write…

LJP: If you want to shoot out some ideas, feel free. Give me names and meanings—unless the meaning is better than the one I found for her, I'm sticking with mine… but you may well find one more fitting. Kudos to you if you do.

Princess Myra: The twerp thing will be part of the story eventually. It's thought with all fondness, even if ruefully. 

Iluvien: Glad to know. I didn't see anything when I went back, but I went through all of my stories currently up for one mistake of mine that was farely frequent—I had to upload over thirty chapters again to fix it. So, in other words, I may have missed it.

Tara6: It happened to me, too, and I have no idea why. I saw the chapter was there, checked my author's note, then left and when I came back, it wouldn't let me get to the chapter anymore. Weird.

Farflung: Yeah, you get the feeling he was about to give up and go to her anyway. Her thoughts of Elrohir are those of rueful affection, which I will explain eventually… like when they meet up once more. Legolas's deer-in-headlights reaction was a subtle nudge towards the 'she's-not-really-my-sister' feelings that we're supposed to be getting around to. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Legolas let out a deep breath and almost smiled, but forced his expression to remain neutral as was befitting at such a solemn time. 

"Dismissed." Thranduil waved all away, and shook his head when the room finally cleared. "I cannot believe she thought to pull that with me."

Legolas did smile, now that he was allowed, and ran a hand through his hair, undoing the braids. "It was obvious she had to have found a way to warn him—how else would he have known?"

"Precisely," Thranduil agreed. "And how is she?"

"She is fine. I did not tell her of Eiectorm's petition, though."

"Even though it was brought to your attention yesterday, and I saw your eyes glaze a few times?"

"How are you to know for sure if it was in speech or rest?" Legolas sent his father a sly smile.

Thranduil chuckled softly and entered his study, motioning for Legolas to shut the door. "You wouldn't have gone to sleep at such a time, no matter how ridiculous the pleas." 

"No," Legolas agreed after a moment. He sighed. "And it will be her right to ask again in the future."

"And she will again be turned down. Her plots in one scheme attempted to damage your reputation, and to in fact secure a title for herself that you had already found she was unworthy of. Her lies and deceit alone, without considering the times she drugged you, would be more than enough for her to be banished from Greenwood for the rest of time. Add those in, and regardless of her help in the near fatal wound dealt to Mirimir, she would never be granted return here. With that assistance, she is lucky I did not send riders to warn the other realms of the reason for her exile."

Legolas smiled faintly. "Not, of course, that you had any qualms against telling anyone who wrote to ask."

"Of course," Thranduil agreed, shaking his head as his faint smile faded. "You should tell her."

"Why? It is done. What matters it if she finds out today or in a hundred years, when Eiectorm again petitions to return to Greenwood?"

Thranduil's brows drew together, and he considered a spot on his desk. "You should tell her, so she is forewarned next time. Knowing now that she has no chance to be granted return, the asking will be a matter of pride for Eiectorm. As she has shown an odd amount of cunning, considering her general lack of intelligence in practical matters, we do not know that Eiectorm has not plotted anything else."

Legolas's heart stopped for an instant, only to kick back in at an increased rate a moment later, but not before he had gone cold all over. "You think she may try to finish what he started?"

"I think you should warn her, so she can be careful in case such was planned," Thranduil stated carefully.

Legolas let out a shaky breath. _Mirimir__, where are you?_

_In my room.__ Why?_

_Stay there. _"Father?"

Thranduil chuckled. "If you so wish," he agreed.

Legolas nodded shortly and strode quickly from the room, scanning every shadow for so much as a hair out of place as he hurried to Mirimir's room. He found the door unlocked, to his chagrin. Pushing it open rapidly, he apparently startled Mirimir, who jumped up, her eyes wide and pale grey until she closed her eyes, seeing him. 

"What are you doing? Were you trying to scare me?"

He shook his head and grabbed her wrist, pulling her along behind him. "I was not trying to scare you… though you've succeeded in worrying me!"

"Why would I be—" she cut off as they entered the hall. _Worrying you?_ She finished in silence, seeing other elves along the halls, feeling what felt like every pair of eyes on her and Legolas as he forced her to continue. _What is going on, Legolas? Why are you—and where are you—dragging me?_

_I shall explain in a moment,_ he promised softly, ushering her into his father's study before him. 

She turned on him the instant the door closed, crossing her arms over her chest in pure irritation, which sparkled in her grey eyes. _Well?_

Legolas sighed and ran a hand through his hair. _The former Lady Eiectorm petitioned to return to __Greenwood__._

She paled, her eyes darkening a little. _What?_

He nodded, eyes downcast. _She was refused, of course,_ he soothed, tucking a piece of her once again chin length hair behind her ear. 

She frowned at him, and bit her lip. _Why was I not told?_

_I did not think it would do to worry you._

_And how was that your decision?_

Legolas stiffened slightly, his eyes narrowing. _I have been responsible for you since the day you arrived, Mirimir. Jointly with my father and Leherim, but Father has many duties, and Leherim is no longer on these shores, so that duty falls to me now. I thought it wise at the time to let you remain in blissful ignorance of the pleadings._

_Oh,_ she nodded her head slightly, _blissful ignorance._ She motioned with her hands, her eyes narrowed to slits, her hair slashing over her face. _Blissful ignorance! Legolas, by the Valar! What is wrong with you? I am not a child, nor am I anything near ignorant. I have read through the entire library—and nearly all of the others, as well! Perhaps I do not interact with other elves as often as I could—you know well why—but ignorant is something I cannot recall ever being._

_Not when you were unable to read? To speak? To walk, for crying out loud? You have been such a child for so long—_

She pulled back and lashed her arm out, making contact with his cheek in a split instant, stopping the words. She glared at him in anger, finding some satisfaction first in his silence, then in his wide-eyed look as he lifted a few fingers to his cheek. When the red mark from her hand showed up, though, her anger flooded from her in a rush. She clapped one hand over her mouth and backed up, horrified by what she had done. 

She started to race out of the room, but Legolas's hand darted out and caught her. _You shall not leave this room until things are safe._

He wouldn't let her leave. That was the only thing she understood as she looked at the door, stared at it in terrible certainty. He wouldn't let her run from what had happened, what she had done. She backed away from him in slow steps, and cast about the room for anything. By the wall there was a table, slightly smaller than the one in her room. She ducked down, curled up, and laid her head against her knees, all her movements slow and controlled. Once she was there, the strength seeped out of her, and numbness settled in. 

Legolas looked at her still form, wincing internally as he recalled what he had been saying. 

"Son?"

He blinked and looked up, seeing his father looking between them in confusion. He sighed softly and ran a hand through his hair, before absently rubbing his neck. "I put my foot in my mouth," he confessed. He looked at Mirimir, found he could see her glazed eyes through her dark slashes of hair. "No!" He dropped to his knees in front of her, shaking her shoulders. Her head lolled to the side, but she didn't return from the defensive semi-sleep state she had not used in many years to avoid him. "Mirimir, wake up." 

"How has she—"

"I don't know," Legolas snapped, before taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. He wasn't wholly successful. "She used to do this a lot, to avoid my presence." 

"Has she done it recently?"

"No." Legolas shook her once more, but that did nothing except cover her eyes with her hair. Wincing for her, he carefully removed the dark strands from her eyes as gently as he could. _Mirimir__?_ With a moment's hesitation, he reached out to the semi-real space between minds that he and Leherim had sometimes used to meet and play together when she had been sent to Imladris when they were children. 

He could feel her, but it was as if there was a large, thick, fuzzy cloud between them. 

_Mirimir__, please answer me._

Slowly, he felt a stronger flicker from her, felt her draw nearer, but he could not see her through the filmy substance that pressed on him, against him.

_Mirimir__, please!_

She came closer, almost reached out as if to touch him, but then dropped away from his eyes again, leaving only the echo of a whisper which chilled him. _...no better than him._

_Mirimir__, I'm sorry. I lost my temper. I didn't mean to say you were still a child. I am so sorry. Please come back._

She came closer, and for an instant he could see her through the fog. Her head was tilted to the side, dark slashes of hair across her face. It was a painfully unnatural angle, and reminded him of a rag doll… and at the same time of an orc who's neck he had broken once when he was young and foolish enough to be disarmed. The orc's head had hung so like that now he winced, hating having made the comparison, and that it was an apt one. _Why should you be sorry?_ Her voice came back to him as she wandered off again.

He pressed on in the fuzz between them, tried to follow her while keeping in mind how he had come so he could find his way back. _I yelled at you._

_And I struck you. No better than him. After all I promised myself, after all of it… I'm no better than him._

Legolas closed his eyes and shuddered, shaking his head. _That's not true, little one. You were well within your right to strike me._

_No one should hurt another._

_But my words were hurtful. You lashed back. It is natural, understandable._

_Then he was within his rights? Doing what came naturally to him? _She came closer, so he could see a flicker of her again. She had straightened slightly, her eyes darker than usual as she watched him through the obscuring mist. He got the impression she could always see him, though he had trouble getting so much as a glimpse of her.

_I cannot say anything on that with a definite assurance, since you have told me next to nothing of what happened, and are allowing yourself to forget._

_You are wrong,_ she whispered, coming closer. Finally he could see her fully, and found it a struggle to look at her. She was covered in cuts and bruises, with swelling and discoloration marring all of her skin except the few inches she had allowed him to see before. Her hair swung back to show a very ugly mark on her cheek, even when compared to the rest of her battered body. _I will never truly forget the horror, the pain, even if details escape me._

_But you should not forget anything, because perhaps if you recall it you can begin putting it truly behind you._ He was floundering for something to say, and he was well aware of that fact. _Mirimir__, you have to share it with me before I can help you get over it._

_It can never be gotten over, Prince. What I remember has marked me for the rest of time. My body has healed, my mind expanded, but as you now see me, so I always have been._

He closed his eyes as he remembered Arwen's words. An injured heart. Battered and broken, more like. _All injuries, all scars can heal in time, little one._ He watched her, and took a chance, removing from his own image all hiding wraps he had ever covered his own heart with. _Look at me, Mirimir. What do you see?_

She frowned slightly, and shook her head. _Just you.__ Nothing else._

_Don't you see where I was hurt by orcs? Injured in sparring matches with friends? Wounded in word fights?_

_No,_ she murmured softly, her frown deepening, half-dead grey eyes searching his skin in confusion.

He walked closer, watched as her ears tipped slightly back as she found a large mark over his heart. _But you see the pain of Leherim's move, of my mother's death._

_I do now,_ she agreed softly, lifting her fingers to lay over the wound. 

He covered her hand with his, holding it flat to his chest. _Everyone has scars, has wounds that are healing. Some are greater than others, some will need more time. All will fade, if given the time needed, and plenty of loving care._

She looked up at him, frowned faintly for an instant and returned her gaze to his mark. _Why is there no bruise on your cheek?_

_Because you did not hurt me.__ Not badly enough for it to last longer than the initial sting of skin. You were justified in your small injury, yet you still reached out to try and soothe the wounds I do carry._ He brushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear, drawing his fingers down along the small expanse of uninjured skin. _Let me help you,_ he whispered, holding tightly to her hand when she began moving back, keeping it pressed against his chest. _In the last years has nothing helped? Not learning to be an elf? Not speaking with others, not reading and having your plants, eating full meals and being clean when you want to be clean?_

She shook her head and backed up slightly. _No! If it had, then I wouldn't be covered in bruises and slashes, burns and scars!_

He smiled faintly, pressing his palm to her smooth cheek. _You aren't, Mirimir._

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she jerked back so suddenly he was unable to stop her from gaining her freedom. The hand that had rested over his heart lifted to her cheek, where she probed the skin in incredulous silence. Once she had done so to her satisfaction, she looked up at him, her eyes large and beginning to glint silver as she slowly smiled, before she reached out and touched his cheek. _I have healed._

_A little,_ he agreed softly, cautious about being too enthusiastic about the tiny progress she had made. _In time, you shall heal entirely._ He brushed her hair back once more. _But you must come to terms with the past, as well as the present before you are truly well._

She sighed, closing her eyes as she gazed at something near his foot. _I don't want to remember it._

_I know,_ he sighed as well, before drawing her into his arms. _But I promise to help you however I can._

She took a deep breath and slowly relaxed against him. _Yeah?_

_Yeah._ He smiled as she wrapped her arms loosely over his shoulders, laying her head against one, her nose against his throat. _What do you say?_

_How do we get home?_

He laughed softly and withdrew, blinking a few times to clear the soft fog from his vision. Mirimir was blinking much the same when he was able to focus, a slight smile curving her lips when she saw him. He arched onto his heels, standing with a few twinges from muscles that didn't like having been stuck kneeling for so long. She accepted his hand up, allowed him to pull her closer after he sat on the edge of his father's desk, and closed her eyes with a sigh, laying her head against his shoulder as he drew her against him. 

Thranduil lifted a brow, but a messenger knocked on the door before he could figure out how to formulate the questions he had for his son. "Yes?" he asked once Mirimir had stepped somewhat back, though Legolas's hand remained, stroking lightly up and down her arm. 

"The banished parties have all left the realm, sire."

"All?" Legolas asked sharply, his hand stilling for an instant.

"Yes, my lord. Every last one is accounted for."

"Very good," Thranduil stated, dismissing the lad with a quick flip of his hand. "Legolas?"

Legolas smiled and nodded slightly, turning Mirimir slightly so she faced him. _You can return to your room now._

_And if I don't wish to?_

_Then you can go elsewhere._

_Getting rid of me?_

_Father has many questions he wishes to ask of me. If you do not soon go, he will command it._

_Command.__ I can't get over that._

_What?_

_Your father is the king. He commands people._

_Yes,_ he agreed, amused. 

_Well, it seems rather overwhelming when I think about it. Doesn't it ever stun you?_

_It irritates me more. Since he's the King, I'm the Prince._

_I wonder what people would think if they truly knew how much you loathe that title._

_They would undoubtedly think me insane, since so many would love to trade me places. For a few centuries I've no doubt any could find it quite enjoyable, but no one could love it forever. Not among the elves, anyway._

_Perhaps not,_ she agreed after a moment. _I suppose I shall be leaving then._

_Hmm._

She laughed softly and shook her head at him, before a thought darkened her eyes and stilled her laughter. She reached up and laid her palm against his cheek, moving her thumb lightly, a small frown pulling at her brows. 

He smiled faintly, turning his head slightly to kiss her palm. _It is fine, little one._

_Truly?_

_Truly,_ he agreed quietly with a smile. _Now you had best be off._

_Hmm._

He chuckled softly and tucked the dark slashes of hair behind her ears before she left. He couldn't help another grin when she didn't bother with any deference to his father on her way out. "Yes, Father?" he asked when she was down the hall a ways. 

Thranduil shook his head slightly and closed the door before sitting in a chair so he could face his son, who still sat on the edge of his desk. "The argument was about what?"

"It was originally about me not telling her about Eiectorm's plea. It evolved a bit after that."

"Hardly surprising. You were the one at fault?"

"I was the one to misspeak, yes." 

Thranduil lifted a brow, wondering why Legolas chose to word that so carefully. "And things are well once more?"

"Between her and me, yes. Between her and her past… not so much. She has at least agreed to attempt facing it."

"That is good…" Thranduil hesitated for a moment longer, and then leaned back in his chair. "What do you think of her?"

Legolas blinked. Then he frowned. Looked down at his hands. Finally he opened his mouth and wet his lips. "I don't really know. At first she was just a poor creature we took in. Then she was a mistreated elf, who needed all the gentle care she could get. After that she needed a teacher more than anything, to help her read and eventually, to speak. But now… I don't know. I don't know what to think of her, what to call her. I don't know how old she is, but I cannot truly call her a child, merely for the way she conducts herself. Yet at the same time… in some ways she is like a child, timid in her dealings with other elves." He shrugged and looked up at his father. "I don't really know." 

"And her nightmares? She has begun sharing them?"

"The last two nights, only."

"And how does she share them?"

"She tells me of them, though I suppose she could just show me."

"In your minds she tells you, or in true speech?" 

"True speech," he stated with a frown.

"Then you sleep with her?"

Legolas's frown deepened. "I sleep beside her, Father. When I am able to take rest at all after hearing what she sees, what she remembers."

Thranduil watched him silently for a long moment.

Even though he knew his father was trying to gauge the situation, his silence made Legolas rather nervous, so he continued, attempting to get himself off the hook he felt being dangled a little closer with every muted moment. "She is not one to be thought of in such a way, Father. She needs a friend, one she can trust not to hurt her—" he winced, recalling the snap of her hand, "—and she would understandably rather run than be anything more than a friend to anyone. Much less me. I have become her comforting blanket, her security against the trials of the past."

"You are linked to her, as you were to Leherim," Thranduil finished for him. "But do you see her as your sister?"

Legolas scowled. "No. I have one sister. Mirimir is a friend." 

After a moment, Thranduil nodded. "Very well."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	30. Faded blue eyes

**LadyJadePerendhil**: I can understand your impatience… and I don't blame you… but… No, he isn't lying. He may be in denial, but he's done a good enough job of it _he_ thinks of her as nothing but a friend. Mostly. Probably. At the time. Likely not from then on, as she has asserted herself as an adult who can give as good as she gets in verbal spars. With her memories of weapons being used, I don't think she will ever be able to pick one up herself. She would likely be shaking too hard to hold onto it, even with Legolas there to help her. My _brand_? What, slow and grammatically correct?

**Lady Deidra**: Thank you! Hope you continue to enjoy!

**Farflung**: I think you've overestimated her. I think she _would_ do something like that, if she thought for a moment she could get away with it. Of course, I'm not so sure she has the guts to carry something like that out herself. Well, Leherim and Legolas certainly never used it for _that_… hmm… Hey, thank you. I look forward to your reviews every time I post. 

**Animir**: It was sort of planned, and sort of not. I find it's an author thing—I know exactly what I mean, and only on rereading it to I find I made it slightly unclear, or left you with a cliffhanger, or something like that. In the last chapter, I didn't want to just come right out with it, but sorry I confused you.

**Iluvien****:** I think it's my favorite, too, but my muse likes to bug me with new ideas for this one, too. Not that I mind. Yes, the memories are of her father. Thranduil isn't as confused as he could be. He at least sees a potential match where they don't.

**Princess Myra**: I think I know what you mean—Thanks!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Mirimir took a shaky breath, tightening her hands around the balcony's railing. The abrasive stone helped ground her in the present, the cool night air soothing on her overheated skin. She shook her head. "This is unbelievable," she croaked, before taking another breath, trying to keep the tears burning her eyes and constricting her throat from overflowing.

"But you know it is the truth." Though he said it as a statement, she knew there was a question behind the weary voice.

"Yes," she agreed softly with a sigh. She didn't turn as he came closer, didn't move as his arms slid around her waist. "How could any elf be so awful? So cruel and…" Words failed her. She couldn't begin to find words adequate to describe the things she remembered. At the time, they had been common place, everyday occurrences which hadn't stunned her, though she had been mindlessly terrified most of her life. But now, looking back, things seemed even worse to her now than they had at the time, since now she knew how things were supposed to have been, could tell how wrong His treatment of her had been. 

Legolas sighed softly, kissed her hair and drew her back so she was resting against him. Only once she had moved her hands from the railing to rest on the arms he had put around her did he move, leading her back to her room. "You should try to—"

She shook her head rapidly, her short hair flailing about her as she pulled to an abrupt halt, tearing from his grasp. "No! Every time I try to rest I see something else, something so…" 

He pulled her into his arms again, coaxing her to remain with him as he eased back onto the bed. "You will wake quickly, and I will be here when you do."

"I don't think I could stand another one tonight."

He closed his eyes, something sharp twisting in his gut as he heard the quiver in her voice. He pulled her even closer as he rolled to his side, pressing her face against his throat. "Then think of good memories, and cling to them." 

Easy for him to say. Still, she closed her eyes with a resigned sigh, reopening them to find his watchful gaze upon her. Knowing he would remain there until she agreed, would lay there just watching her, his hand running lightly over her back, or her arm, or in this case through her hair, she rolled her eyes and did her best to relax, loosening the tight grip she had on the material at his waist.

At first everything was good and fine. She was recalling a time with Leherim in the small garden for their late lunch. Elrohir and Legolas had joined them before long, and the meal had been decidedly pleasant, though Elrohir was a bit dull when he wasn't playing harmless tricks on her. But once the meal was finished, things began changing. Legolas and Leherim left, Elrohir following his wife quickly. 

The flowers in the garden withered and died, the small waterfall carved into the stone turned rusty before stopping altogether, the stone walls darkening with the ruin of water and time as the light created by the magic of the elves—and some dwarf craftsmen—faded away into nothingness. The walls began glowing faintly, glowing with the absent flicker of flame as the warm day faded into a chilled night. 

She turned until she found the source of the light, shuddering as she saw the red iron lying in the coals. She knew that iron better than any smith would, had felt it pressing into her in so many places she couldn't begin to tell if she had any untouched place upon her. Her breath came a bit harder, and she made her way to the wall, sliding down until she was on the floor, cowering away as that brand was lifted, the light of the fire glowing in cruel, dark eyes. He held it above the flames, studied the red-orange glow, before a faint smile touched His lips, twisting them. 

She calmed her breathing and cowered into a smaller ball, trying to blend in with the wall if she could. 

But no, He was turning _away_ from her, ignoring her huddled existence. 

A soft whimper hit the air. 

It took her a moment to realize it hadn't been in her head—it had really touched the air. 

Rendered mute, as she always was, she looked up, and saw the brand move down to char the skin of a young elf. His face twisted as he held in the scream of pain she saw in his blue eyes. When the iron was lifted, his head fell, a soft sob escaping him as his skin finished smoking, blisters already formed within the puckered flesh. His faded blue eyes lifted after the heartbeats needed to temper the worst of the pain, his eyes seeking her. He looked away only when the cooling brand lowered again to his back, burning his shirt onto and into his flesh. 

Her hands curled into fists, and she held back a sob as the one who wielded the iron lifted it, the scent of burnt flesh too familiar to her, her own marks burning with the memory as the iron was struck with his sword, the sparks flying down, smoldering in the young elf's clothing, lighting briefly in his black hair before the sparks died. 

The blue eyes lifted again, seeking her out. 'Get away,' he mouthed, his ratted hair blocking the movement from the elf standing over him, the elf who brought the sword which was lit by the red of the fire down onto the lad's burnt back, stained red as it came up only to fall once more. 

A sudden shake brought her to a warm room, unlit by flame that danced beyond its accepted bounds. She shuddered, recalling for the first time the last time those faded blue eyes had landed upon her. "Kalick," she breathed, before she began shaking in earnest. "Legolas," she sobbed softly, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt to bury her face in his chest, causing the arms already holding her tightly to tighten a bit more. "I… I had a brother."

He stiffened against her, a harsh breath released into her hair. "What happened?"

"He… he gave up." She shuddered and reached up, wrapping a hand around his neck to help her settle herself so she could hear his heart. Her words' effect on him was clear, his heart racing beneath her ear as she burrowed against him, the hand not clenching the material at his nape searching out a patch of warmth for her fingers at his waist. "He endured it as long as he could, but with no end in sight… he gave up. Although He didn't actually kill him, he may as well have."

"His name was Kalick?" Legolas asked softly, his head tilted so the faint whisper caressed the tip of her ear. When she nodded, he hugged her lightly, rubbing small circles with his thumb at the small of her back. "His name shall be added to the list of the lost," he promised her.

She nodded again, and burrowed closer, feeling so cold, even as he wrapped her in a blanket and allowed her to slide her fingers under his shirt to help absorb his warmth. She spent the remaining time with her eyes closed, so she couldn't drift off into dreams again.


	31. Let me go

**LadyJadePerendhil****:** There will be a little bit more of Kalick… at least in this chapter, maybe a bit farther on. She doesn't say he didn't die, she says He (her father) didn't kill him. Kalick gave up on life and faded away. 

**Animir****:** I wrote that she closed her eyes to keep from sleeping. I don't know if that's how it would really work (of course, we're discussing a fictional race). Tolkien writes that elves can take rest—such as they need—with their eyes open. If they don't sleep with their eyes open, I don't really know. It's a common thing in fanfics that I've read to have it be the case that even when they lay down to sleep their eyes are open. I've just taken it a step farther here, saying that at least Mirimir cannot rest with her eyes closed; her world dark. 

**Princess Myra:** Kalick is truly dead, and I don't plan on having him reborn. It's possible, I suppose… Elrohir played tricks, yes. 

**Galorin****:** Yeah, Kalick was her older brother. There's more about that below. 

**D. K. Blackwater:** It will take a while, and so far, Thranduil is the only one to see it. 

Thanks for reading and reviewing to: **Elainor****, Iluvien, Tara6, Coolio02 & Mystress Deidra.**

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"I'm sorry," he murmured softly, his hands resting outside of hers on the balcony as his warmth soaked into her back. "You do like this garden, don't you?"

"Yes," she agreed. "Things went well?"

"Fairly," he agreed softly, stepping slightly closer. "And you are?" he trailed off, letting her choose to answer however she would.

"I'm all right," she answered quietly after a moment, her pause concerning him when her words should have reassured him. 

"Have you gotten any rest?" he pressed gently, the majority of him hoping she had, for her sake, but part of him liking the thought that she might need him for something so basic as rest.

She sighed and looked down at some of the flowers she had recently planted in the garden, not seeing their new growth. "No," she admitted after a pause, her voice low. "It seems every time I try to rest, I find someone else I had forgotten."

He was silent for a long moment. "Someone else?"

She almost smiled faintly at his horrified tones, but the things she was remembering, whether she was asleep or not, made it impossible. "Yes. Kalick was my older brother. He held on the longest."

"Oh, Valar," he breathed. "Others died?"

"My sisters, my mother."

His head dropped down, his forehead resting on her shoulder. "I've had Kalick added. Their names? Ages?" He sounded slightly strangled, his voice raspy and hoarse.

Absently she lifted a hand, rubbing her thumb behind his ear before letting her fingers slide through his hair, eventually settling her hand on one of his. He turned it, taking it to her waist for a partial hold. She sighed. "Mother's name I don't recall yet. Yeradriel wasn't much younger than me." Mirimir tilted her head, seeing one instant of true happiness in the lives of her and her siblings. "She was the only one with light blue eyes. The other's eyes were darker, at least until the end neared. Rallene was truly the baby. She never learned to walk."

"He killed her that young?"

"She was not killed… she just never learned to walk, not even such as I had. He never _killed_ anyone, as far as I know…"

"What do you mean?" he asked huskily. 

"We never spoke. Kalick could, and sometimes did, would cry or yell… but the rest of us were mute, and were beaten for so much as whimpering, if He could hear us. But it is possible there were others… before Kalick." With a shake of her head she ducked under his arm, heading back into the halls. "I wouldn't know." 

"Do you know why he was the way he was?"

"No. I only know He swore to kill us if we ever spoke, and that his actions drove every thought of hope and joy from the eyes of my siblings."

Legolas hesitated, but followed her, feeling exhausted by the emotions running through him. They hadn't let up in so long… "Then how have you survived?"

She froze, frowned slightly and continued. "I had to."

"But how?"

"I don't know how, just that I had to. I had to go on. For them. Because they thought I would make it."

"Why?"

"Does it matter? They thought I would, and Kalick…"

"Kalick?" he asked, stopping her with a hand on her arm when she would have moved on past him despite his question. He sighed, reaching up to caress her cheek gently, soothingly. "I'm getting something from you, but I can't identify it." He frowned as that unidentifiable _something_ twisted again within his chest.

"Well, I doubt you ever sacrificed yourself for Leherim in quite the way he did for me and our sisters, so…" she shook her head and pulled her arm loose as he was struck with the implication. "Legolas… I need to think this through."

"You're telling me to get lost?"

"The memories are coming through more strongly while you're gone. But they have managed to arrange themselves in such a way I remember a comfort when I need it."

He let out a short laugh. "So you're telling me you don't need—or want—me around right now?"

"Basically," she agreed. A flicker from blue eyes in her memory, so dark they were nearly black, contradicted her quickly. She took a deep breath and steeled herself against them, recalling instead a smile Kalick gave her at one moment when He was out of the house, and they were locked up, mostly uninjured, in the small cellar. 

"You will make it," he promised her, touching her cheek lightly. "You will survive."

She looked at him with wide eyes, frowned in uncertainty.

"Yes you will," he insisted with a faint smile. 

She shook her head, bringing her back to the present to see normally bright blue eyes darkening slightly, the dark edges spoking in to meet, worrying about her. "What?" she asked, tilting her head at him.

"You aren't telling me something."

"What?" she asked, forcing a slight smile.

"I don't know," he admitted, frowning, "but I wish I did."

"Why?"

"Because then I wouldn't have to either drag it out of you, or accept that you won't be telling me."

"You don't have to accept it. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Mirimir, don't insult me. I was linked with Leherim for nearly three thousand years. I can tell you are hiding something, and that you are well aware of it." 

She looked at him, shrugged and opened the door to her room. 

"Mirimir," he growled, stopping the door from swinging closed on him. He stepped in and closed it behind him. 

"What?"

He frowned at her, his eyes narrowing as he tried to read her well enough to gauge what she was hiding. "Why won't you tell me?"

"Did Leherim never keep anything silent?"

"You saw it."

"That was the only time?" she asked in astonishment.

With a faint frown lingering he nodded. "Yes. And it was one time too many, in my opinion."

She shook her head. "I can't believe she always told you everything."

"Pretty much. Why wouldn't she?"

"Some things aren't worth sharing, and some should be secret."

"Why?"

She stared at him like he'd grown an extra head. "Because some things are private."

"Between any two people who don't have the chance we have, Mirimir. Most people can never truly know anyone else, can never get any closer than knowing approximately what's probably being thought of about certain things. Only three inches, but it can be a very lonely distance. That distance isn't between us, and never has to be." 

She reached up and touched his cheek. "In this, it does. I am recalling things that make me want to crawl out of my own skin. It is an alienation you never need to feel." 

"And if I want to feel it? If I want to be there for you?"

"You will always be there, if I need you. But I don't. This is one of those things that needs to be done alone." She tucked a bit of light golden hair behind one of his ears, drawing her fingers down the silken length to the ends, dropping them lightly against his chest. "You have had such things, I know you have."

"Of course, but it doesn't mean I shut…" He broke off and turned his head to the side. He sighed softly. "You plan to spare me, is that it?"

"And why not?"

"Because I don't wish to be spared."

She looked up into his flashing eyes, and slowly shook her head. "It is not your choice. It is mine, and I have made it. This is something I must do alone, just as I had to decide to give living here a chance. There is nothing you can say or do to make me change my mind about this." 

He looked back at her, his jaw tight. He bit off his words, his eyes narrowing even farther as he spoke, his anger making the words nearly come out as a hiss. "I doubt I shall have to, once the memories become bad enough."

As he made to leave the room, she found a small bit of strength she had long ago forgotten. "I am not a child, Legolas. I am not weak. I have never been weak, even if I have allowed myself to lean on you too much, for too long. I stand before you now, on my own, and I know I can stand alone. I shall, as I have most of my life."

"You couldn't even stand not a decade ago. Not truly. Why this sudden change, this desire for independence?"

She studied his face for a moment, then took a breath and lifted her chin. "I need to be on my own. You have acted as a shield, Legolas, when I needed to be pushed into the fray. I am an elf, partly in thanks to you, but I have never been an elf before, not truly. I cannot become who I was meant to be if you are forever hunting me out if I feel even the slightest flicker of pain. When I came, you saw me as a child, took me in, taught me, trained me, as if I was your own offspring. But you never let me fall, never let me make my own mistakes." She smiled faintly, sadly, and reached up to lay her palm against his cheek. "You have to let me go." 

He stared at her in stunned silence for a while, then placed his hand over hers, turning his head slightly to kiss her palm. "It is difficult."

"Yes," she agreed softly, "but it must be done." Just as this had to be done.

He threaded his fingers with hers, frowning at a space behind her as he thought things out. "If you are in earnest, as I believe you are… then I should go. If I'm here, I will always come when you need me." He snorted ruefully. "And even when you don't, apparently." 

"Legolas, for a long time that is what I needed most—someone I could trust to be there, someone who would help me when I needed it. A solid presence, a constant friend. But now I need room to grow."

"I would have you stay here, though. Spread your wings in the safety of familiar spaces, venture into waters you know." He nodded. "That would be best."

"Then what of you? You cannot exactly leave."

"And why not? I have considered removing to Fangorn since I first stepped into that wood, and I know we would be welcomed. As it will not be many years before the journey to the undying lands is undertaken, there is no reason any would be against filling that wood with light for the time we remain."

"Not even your father?"

"He will understand, and accept my decision." Legolas nodded slightly and brought her hand up to his lips. "I shall speak with him in the morning, then." 

She nodded, and let out a sigh of relief when he finally left. With him in Fangorn, the connection wouldn't be so easy. It would still work, but the distance provided a sort of interference, which blocked a good portion of emotion unless they were already talking when the emotions were felt. 

But that wasn't the real reason she was shoving him out the door. 

The funny thing was he would probably never realize she was still terrified of falling to her dreams, still afraid when she faced her memories, still uncertain she could face them on her own. She would have to, because she didn't intend for him to ever realize she was pushing him away because he needed to be gone. Not for her sake, but for his.


	32. Rare moments

Farflung: Yeah, the coziness is the closest I can come to romance, as long as they're both clueless. It's unthinking, but if they stopped to realize it, they would know something was up. I don't know that she or her siblings knew about Mandos. Glad the scene worked.

Iluvien & Galorin: the first two paragraphs here should answer things. 

LJP: Yes, a bit of it, and mostly. 

Mystress Deidra: it will take a while, sorry. Get her healed first, then go for the conscious romance. 

To everyone who read/reviewed, thank you very much, but there's the option of getting this up before my (annoyingly short) break, or not until next week with more in depth review responses. I think I answered the questions (sorry, LJP, for them being so succinct. If you don't want to check back, ask again & I'll reply better for the next chapter). Hope you all enjoy this chapter… and I've got to get to class! 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was only when Legolas and the elves who had gone with him to Fangorn were well settled into their new homes, and their new routines, that he realized how much he had missed Leherim every day while he remained in Greenwood. Here there were no memories popping in on him wherever he went, no visions of the past clouding his eyes. 

Though he loved his sister dearly, missing her so much was not a wise thing for any elf who was not planning on crossing the sea any time too soon. 

So it was with a greatly lightened, though still somewhat heavy heart that he spent his days with the other elves, or with Gimli when the dwarf came to visit. He was also often drawn to visits with Aragorn, and saw Merry, Pippen and Sam from time to time, when they visited Minas Tirith. 

If only Mirimir were here, instead of so far away, he would have been truly happier than he had been since Leherim was still in Greenwood, during the first happy days of her marriage. But Greenwood had become Mirimir's comfort zone in his stead, and she remained there, refusing to come even to visit, no matter how often he asked. As the sole ruler of Fangorn, his short excursions to visit Aragorn and Gimli were as long away from the elves, now of Fangorn, that he was allowed in good conscience. 

He could still feel her, sometimes awakened at night with his heart pounding, his breathing too rapid, sweat dripping from his hair. She would say little about the cause, when she bothered answering his inquiries at all. For the most part she would brush him off, and spoke of more general things. 

Though it bothered him a great deal, feeling he was losing another elf to distance, he could think of no cure for it, as he wanted her to have the space she claimed to need. From her point of view, he could see how she would get the idea he was rather overprotective, and perhaps even stifling, but that didn't mean he didn't miss her, and the closeness the link had previously afforded them. 

"What's eating you, lad?"

Legolas blinked and smiled faintly, his attention drawn back to the present world. "Nothing, Master Dwarf."

"Don't nothing me, Elf! You were off somewhere, but not speaking with that lady of yours."

"My lady? Gimli, she is my friend."

"Harumph."

Legolas frowned at him. "Gimli?"

Gimli shook his head in disgust. "You don't use those eyes you were given, wood-elf! You two are quite a pair."

He laughed at that, leaning back to properly see his friend. "You think so, Gimli? And why is that? Because she would take your side to tease me?"

"Because she _would_ tease you! Because she treated you as a person, not as a Prince. I have yet to see any one of these elves you brought along not bow their heads and lower their eyes to you, much less speak properly—as any trusted friend should. Perhaps they know you better than I—after all, they've had a few thousand years on me—but I don't think that's what you really want. You were irritated when Queen Evenstar let your title slip, and you never made it known during the quest, despite our friendship. If it were not for a few little overheard tidbits from time to time, I would not have known!"

"And my loathing of my title makes you think Mirimir and I are well suited? Gimli, you are quite humorous."

"Laugh if you will, Elf. But she could read your eyes."

Legolas tilted his head, taking in Gimli's earnest and solemn face with a shake of his head. "Gimli, she read my emotions, just as I read hers."

"That 'link' they spoke of?"

"Yes."

"That 'link' you only shared with your sister before?"

"Yes," Legolas agreed, lifting a brow. He could almost hear the wheels in Gimli's head turning, and felt as if he was being backed into a trap.

"That 'link' she only shared with you, until she found herself also 'linked' to her husband?"

"Yes," he stated cautiously, sure of his mistaken maneuver when Gimli's eyes lit up.

"Then why do you assume your 'link' with her was meant to be as it was with your sister, when your sister's only other 'link' was to her love?"

With a sigh he shook his head. "Gimli, I believe you have been in the sun too long wearing that bulky old helmet."

"Think about it," Gimli coaxed. "I think it makes sense."

"Of course you do," Legolas agreed, silently adding 'you're a dwarf' to his statement. "And you are not really sure the 'link' exists. If you were," he added, overriding protests he could see building in his friend's eyes, "you would not constantly place emphasis on the word link."

"Harumph."

Legolas laughed lightly, before leaning back against one of the large old trees at the edge of the forest. After a long silence, during which he could hear Gimli eating heartily at whatever food he had bought along for their wandering walk, he considered Gimli's words. "I don't know why she and I are linked, Gimli. Perhaps it was so we would each have someone else. She needed a friend who would always be there, even when she would have pushed everyone away, and I needed someone to be there when Leherim left. Else I would have joined her many years ago."

"You give her a lot of credit to your happiness."

"She is a good friend, Gimli."

"Is she? Or do you view her as your charge? Your responsibility?"

"Well, she—" he broke off, opening his eyes with a frown. He tilted his head at a cloud formation, thinking quickly. "I suppose she isn't really, is she?"

"I think not. She can stand on her own two feet."

"That's about what she said when she pushed me out of her life."

"She _what?_" Gimli spluttered, shooting to his feet. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," Legolas murmured dryly, a thin smile touching his lips. "She said she didn't need me to always be around, that she needed her own space, room to become who she was meant to be."

"And this just happened to happen just before you decided to come here?"

"No," Legolas shrugged slightly. "I decided to come here because… because she didn't…"

"Spit it out!" Gimli blustered impatiently.

Legolas, for his part, was thinking too quickly for his tongue to bother trying to form anything else for a long moment. "Gimli," he breathed at last. "I think I've been duped."

Gimli blinked at the tall elf before him in utter shock. "Huh?" Such a thing was not to be imagined of the warrior prince.

Legolas slumped back against the tree trunk with a soft laugh. "Valar," he laughed, "she pushed me away to get me out of Greenwood—not because she needed me to be gone, but because _I_ needed to be gone."

"What's the difference?"

"Gimli," Legolas groaned, wondering again at the dullness of dwarfish intellect when it came to quick thinking. With wondrous capacities for the obtaining and care of jewels, they had severe and thus far nearly insurmountable problems in the interpersonal and all such related departments… at least as far as dealing with elves. "She sent me away for my own good, because I was having a hard time staying in Greenwood without Leherim. I didn't even realize how hard it was until I got here and things became so much better. She set it all up so _I_ would be the one to suggest the move, for _her_ sake, of course."

Gimli blinked a few times, a bit slow on the uptake. "So she got you to do exactly what she wanted you to do, and at the same time made you think it was your idea, and that it was for her own good?"

"I am beginning to believe so," Legolas agreed, shaking his head with a faint smile.

Suddenly Gimli let out a hearty laugh that startled several birds into flight. "Still think she is no more suited to you than any other she-elf in these woods?"

Legolas lifted a brow at him. "I never said that, Gimli. Not once."

Gimli gaped at him for a long moment. "But…"

Letting out a light laugh, Legolas rested himself against the base of the tree, putting himself at more of an eye-level with the dwarf as he reached for a wafer of way bread for his own appetite. "But what, friend Gimli?"

"But you keep insisting she is only a friend."

"And so she is."

"But… Then why does it seem you would agree you and she are more suited to each other than you and any she-elf here now?"

"Because I would. As you said, she is the only one who sees me as just another elf, instead of one with a title and the power that goes with it. But being more suited does not mean we are well suited."

"Harumph." Gimli snorted and took a long draught from his water skin. "And what do you look for then? And how long shall you look for it?"

"This from the dwarf who has been dubbed the uncle to every young dwarf around, but hasn't found a bearded wife for himself?"

"There are few unattached dwarf women any more, and those left stay at their family home. I've no chance to meet them, and their male family members are quite protective of them. But you, unlike me, are eternally young, with innumerable options in your future. So what of a bride for you?"

Legolas smiled faintly and closed his eyes. "What of one?"

"Well…" Gimli frowned. "What do you wish? When you close your eyes, do you have a vision of her?"

With a shake of his head, Legolas reopened his eyes and laughed at Gimli. "A vision? You have been dreaming of the Lady again?"

Gimli growled and looked away, a faint flush darkening his weathered skin. "Have you never seen such a vision?"

"Once," Legolas agreed, surprising himself by recalling it. And by admitting it.

"And what of her?"

With a quirk of his lips Legolas lowered his lids and found the image floating before his eyes. "She had long black hair half pulled back, entwined with silver flowers. Her eyes had captured all the stars of the sky until there was nothing but their light left, clinging to her in loving joy, tipping her lashes silver. Skin pale…" he trailed off softly, recalling the faint smile that had tilted her lips as her fine lashes swept down to grace her cheeks.

"Now, if you could only find her again, maybe you would do something about it?"

Legolas shook his head slightly, a faint smile coming forth. "Gimli, I dreamed her up."

"But… I thought elves didn't dream in the manner of mortals."

"Our dreams are of memories melded with the present, but songs need not be. I was still recalling and hearing music. It is quite possible she was nothing more than air and desire." 

"And it is possible she really exists, is it not?"

"I suppose," he agreed, frowning. "But I would have seen her, met her. All the nobles of Greenwood were quite interested in assuring I had ample time to meet their daughters, and that Leherim met their sons."

"Perhaps you have met her, but didn't connect her up with this vision you saw. If you caught her in a rare moment of intense beauty—"

"Rare moments don't happen for elves, Gimli."

Gimli huffed and turned away, the reaction Legolas had hoped for, not wanting to speak about her with Gimli any longer. With a faint smile he leaned back against the tree, closing his eyes as he pulled up the 'vision' once again in his memory, finding her so familiar after so many years of telling himself he didn't remember ever having dreamed or desired her.


	33. Mourning celebration

**D. K. Blackwater**: Actually, by then, it shouldn't be pre-wedding…

**Iluvien**: Yes it is, and yes she will.

**LadyJadePerendhil**: Last chapter he had been there long enough for the elves to be fully settled… a year or two? This coming chapter is a few years beyond that… Mirimir is very good at staying away… I'll try not to get too mushy for you. If I have to go brush my teeth, I'll rewrite something. Fair?

**Farflung**: I don't know that she does know… at least before this chapter. I don't know. Sometimes my character's are secretive even around me. That sounds really weird. I could be my own Psychological study! What characters do in the free space of one's brain. Hmm… All in all, though, she is more likely to understand than he is. He's running on millennia of not having someone close, while she's just running on plain old instincts when it comes to her own feelings. If she were to stop and think, she would probably understand it all… Which sort of brings us to this chapter. Sorta.

Thanks to **cemph4eva**, **Coolio02**, **Mystress**** Deidra**, **Tara6**, and **agaxris** for reviewing!

Again with the loss of break. Sigh.

**_  
  
Chapter 33_**   
  
"My Lady?"

Mirimir turned and looked up, and then shook her head slightly with a faint smile. "No, thank you."

The serving elf bowed his head and wandered away, offering drinks to other elves as he went.

With a sigh Mirimir left the hall with dances in progress, heading off to one of the small gardens most of the elves now watching her leave would be unable to find. Even if they did, they wouldn't think to look for her in the small sheltered nook she silently moved to, curling herself up as she leaned her head back against the cool stone.

There were always so many things to think about, so many things to mourn, to feel sorry for.

Her memories had more or less fitted themselves together correctly in the past few years, a painful collage of events an older, wiser elf should have been able to prevent, but which a mere babe could not begin to comprehend, much less change.

When night came, now she could cling to the few good memories she had of her family, of the times when it was only Nowina, their mother, who was being beaten. She clung to the knowledge that it wasn't her fault her father beat her mother, wasn't her fault she survived when her siblings died.

It was her mother's.

Sort of.

Her father had never been a good, kind, and loving elf as long as she could remember. Memories from the years before Yeradriel was born were rather fragmented, but she knew that for a time Father had only ever beaten their mother. The beatings turned to wounds and marks from the brand or whip after he noticed she had silver eyes—a trait neither he nor her mother possessed.

Whether or not he was truly her father, she couldn't say. Kalick had clung to the hope she was not, and had thought that—her lack of relation—would save her life. Maybe he thought her true father would come riding in one day to take her mother—and so her—away. Maybe he thought that then things would get better… for all of them.

Whatever he thought, he was but a child when he thought it. A small lad when their father's anger turned to her one day after their mother had passed out from the pain, choosing the numbness the darkness provided over looking after her children.

Kalick had shielded her, taken her blows and beatings, and later, Yeradriel's, though Yeradriel looked just like Father. By the time Rallene was born, Kalick was beginning to fade away, his eyes a faded blue she would recall until the end of all life.

After his death, they were all beaten severely, then she and her sisters were locked up as he assaulted their mother, and disposed of Kalick.

It was something she understood, now, her fascination with the soil and plants that grew from it. Kalick had been put into the soil, and plants sprouted up and bloomed happily from his grave. After him, Rallene began feeding the earth, then Yeradriel, and finally their mother. She was buried in the winter, a final child buried within her, dead without having been subjected to the terrors that had awaited it in life.

She had been happy, when her mother died. She had been happy when her sisters died. Kalick she had missed more than she had been happy, for her youth. Not happy because now she got their beatings, because now with only her to focus on, he became ever more cruel and demeaning, his sadistic laugh lighting the red-walled cell she had called home most of her life under his rule. Happy because they were no longer there, no longer enduring what she had been left to endure.

Happy they wouldn't survive to attempt to pick up the battered pieces of their lives, wouldn't have to learn to fit in even though they would never really feel they fit in.

She certainly didn't.

Every time a male asked her to dance, held out his hand and began leading her around the floor, she looked into his eyes and saw that he was unaware such horror could exist. She saw that he would probably think she was telling him a story if she told him the truth. Saw that he would turn away from her in disgust if she could prove it wasn't lies at all.

She had told Legolas once she wished she could climb out of her own skin. She always wished it, wished she could just be brought back in another body, one which didn't still display several puckered burn marks and even more jagged scars from heavy blows she had survived. Most of her scars were gone, true, her body healed in the few hundred years she had spent in the palace. It wasn't those that could be seen that she wished most to escape. Those were most visible to the eye, of course, but they no longer ached.

Only Legolas had seen the other wounds, the ones that still were open and raw. He had seen them, and he had still reached out to her, trying to help her, to convince her she could heal, in time.

Well, in time she was healing. Slowly. Very slowly.

It was just hard, being so alone. In a palace, in the middle of a very festive time, she was utterly alone, even as she was spun around the dance floor by another elf who tried to convince her the festivities should be continued even once the music had ended.

She missed him.

His smiles, the way his eyes darkened, the way his arms found their way around her when she needed the contact the most.

The way he convinced her, just by being there, that she was worth saving.

_Mirimir__?_

A slight smile curved her lips. _Yeah?_ She couldn't help but be glad he had broken in on her melancholy thoughts, though her smile and joy soon faded.

_What's wrong?_

_You dropped in to ask what was wrong?_

_No, I just wanted to talk for a while to someone who doesn't forever call me 'My Lord' or 'Your Highness' or something else equally annoying, but there is something wrong. I can hear it._

_You heard it in my yeah?_

_Yeah._

She smiled faintly and leaned back once more. How well he knew her. _Your father has thrown a rather ostentatious party._

_Tonight?_

_Tonight, last night, the night before, tomorrow, the night after that… It's going to last for nearly two weeks._

_What ever for?_

She bit back a grin. He sounded halfway between being shocked and sure his father had lost his mind. The reason for the party killed her mirth. _It is a… farewell party._

_Farewell?_

She could feel his heart pause and his breath hitch. _Yes,_ she agreed softly. _He makes plans even now to leave within a moon of the final night. Most will leave that morning._

_Were we to be informed?_

_A messenger should have arrived today… perhaps he stopped for rest a bit longer than expected._

_Perhaps,_ Legolas agreed, his tone grim and angry.

_Legolas, he does not answer to you any more than you answer to him._

_I know,_ he sighed, letting go of his rising fury, _but something like this I thought he would discuss with me._

_But you have known for years this time would come, and that it would be soon. What does it matter if it is now or in a year, when you plan to join us soon enough?_

_Us?_ He was silent for a long moment after that one word. _You are leaving as well?_

She bit her lip. _I have not much of a choice, Legolas. I cannot remain here alone. If I go, I shall be with Leherim and Elrohir._

_Or you could come out here and be with me… unless you still need space, which I doubt, since you have not had any bad nightmares in a while, though even now you are troubled by what you have remembered._

_As I may always be,_ she agreed softly. _You said Aragorn was growing old, would soon decide his time had come. In a matter of years at the longest you will be with her again._

_But in the meantime you will leave me utterly alone._

_There are others with you, are there not? Gimli is there, and you have Aragorn as well, for the moment, any way._

_I am not as close to them as I am to you._

She lowered her eyes and let out a sigh. The pleading in his tone was more than she had anticipated. _Legolas, it will not be for very long. I do not wish to remain here any longer, and—_

_Nor do I! But I—_

_But you promised you would remain, and so you shall. I have no joy here, save for the plants…_

_Without me. Without Leherim._

_Yes,_ she agreed on a sigh. _But Legolas, I—_

_Madan__ will be there._

He said it as if it was the end all to the conversation. She simply blinked. _Who?_

_…Madan. You were found in his house… It is likely he is your father, the one who tortured your family._

She took a deep breath, and slowly released it, controlling the shock of fear that had coursed through her. _If that is the case, I will deal with it as it comes._

_You won't wait a year or so even if it means I can be with you?_

_You cannot shield me from my own emotions, Legolas. If he is there, I will face him. Standing on my own feet, unsupported and free. He did not break me then, he shall not succeed now, not when I know the truth of life and elves._

_The truth?_ His tone was bitter, knowing he had lost the argument, that she would be going to the undying lands with his father, would leave him to spend his remaining days alone, without any elves left who truly knew anything about him.

_Yes. He is the anomaly, the freak, not me. He is the one who is outside the realm of normal, not the average. It was that fear that kept me silent for so long._

_You thought I would be like him?_

_For a long time I thought you were just waiting for me to do something wrong. There are many things about you that are like him._

_Mirimir__—_

She hurriedly broke in. _But there are many more and deeper ways in which you are not,_ she soothed. _I know you would never delight in causing such misery. Even when the punishment is deserved you do not thrill in administering it._

_Are you calling me oversensitive?_ His tone had lightened, faint laughter threatening to rule his voice.

_No, no. Not at all._

He laughed. _Good._ His thoughts turned back to the matter at hand, and with a sigh, he agreed. _Very well. I shall join you as soon as I can. And in the meantime, I want you to chat up a storm to hold me through the silence once you do leave._

_And me,_ she whispered.

_Yes,_ he murmured with a slight hint of a sad smile in his voice, _and you._


	34. I am before you

To those who reviewed; thank you very much, and I'll just say one thing here, for all of you: Yes, she's going West. And no, this won't mess things up much, because Legolas will probably be doing the same in the next chapter. I only have a few more chapters planned, which may take longer than expected... for a better explanation, check out the new Among the Brambles chapter... whenever I managed to get it up. Once more THE STORY IS NOT OVER YET.   
  
faerluthio: Thank you so much--your review was a high point in an otherwise very annoying day. It will happen soon, I promise.

Farflung: Mirimir will deal with her father at some point, but thus far I have no plans to take ATB into the undying lands. Things could change, of course. I noticed looking back at what I've written that the fathers do tend to be not so nice. Oh, well. Thranduil makes up for a good portion of it.

**_  
  
Chapter 34_**

Knowing the heartrending effect of attempting to keep the connection open across such distances, Legolas had said his goodbyes at the first hint of strain caused by her travels, and had let the link, which had remained open nearly continuously for almost a month, fall closed. It was a painful silence which befell them.

"How is he taking this?" Thranduil asked softly, drawing his mount beside hers.

She laughed harshly. "He is being left behind… again. By the only other one he has linked to." She took a deep breath and pushed her hood back, before sighing softly. "I am sorry."

"It disturbs you, as well."

"Of course," she agreed. "He… He is resigned. He is also a bit uncertain of himself, as he longs to join us at this crossing, but does not wish for Aragorn's death to be hastened, at the same time."

"How long would he guess?"

"He is unknowing of the ways of mortality, Thranduil. You would not have it be otherwise."

"No," he agreed heavily. "Arwen's fate I would not wish on anyone, and yet… I do wish he would look around, open his eyes, and take a wife."

She smiled slightly. "You may already have those grandchildren you desire."

"I desire his happiness, young lady."

"And he cannot be happy if he is not married?"

Thranduil frowned and looked over at her. "Have you something against marriage?"

She frowned back, but slowly shook her head. "No…" she hesitated.

"But?" he sighed.

She smiled faintly, hanging her head. "But I would rather he remain unmarried than be forced to feel everything he feels in a marriage." She looked down at the small mare she was riding, and smoothed the wayward hairs of her mane back onto the right side of her withers. "Rather selfish, when spoken aloud."

"A genuine concern," Thranduil countered. He smiled gently at her. "One I can attest Legolas worried about before Leherim and Elrohir wed."

She laughed softly and looked up at the King with true fondness. "Thranduil?"

"Yes, child?"

"Can I adopt you?"

He chuckled and tousled her hair affectionately. "I think I'll reserve judgment on that for a while… I may decide to adopt you, instead!"

She smiled and resisted another laugh, knowing many of those traveling with them did not truly wish to leave, and would look with bitterness upon her if she was too merry to leave their beloved home behind. A few elves who had removed to Fangorn were with them as well, which worried her… not many had gone with Legolas to begin with, and several had come when she was watching those preparing to leave. She had seen those Fangorn elves head into the West with their friends and family, catching up on news from the past years at the same time. Legolas had never answered her question about how many had come to cross, or how many had already left to do so.

For all she knew, he was alone… with Gimli and Aragorn.

"Tell me, child. What do you recall of your life before the palace?"

She sighed and closed her eyes. "Darkness. Death. My brother, my sisters, my mother all lost their will to continue, though he did not actually kill any one."

"What of your age?"

She shook her head. "No. It is a blur of unending time. I can say only I was probably over two hundred when Rallene was born, and it was much, much longer than that time until I was taken out of the cellar."

"And have you recalled your name?"

With a frown, she looked up at him. "I had a name, yes. But it was only used a handful of times, that I can recall."

"So, in your mind, you are Mirimir."

"Yes."

"What was your name?" When she told him, he looked at her in consideration. "You were well named, both times, I believe."

She smiled slightly, but turned her attention to the faint scent of salt on the breeze. The cry of a gull reached her ears, and the longing arose in her, accompanied by a sudden pang from Legolas. _I am sorry._

_I know,_ he sighed, before silence befell them again.

The shores appeared before them, and the silver ships awaited their arrival. Every elf there paused for a long moment to look back at the shore, before turning their eyes resolutely to the West.

All except one. She watched the shore recede until she could see it no longer, until Thranduil had turned her around to watch for the coming shore through the silvery mist that surrounded them.

It fell away to a land of music and laughter, which made her ache, for Legolas wasn't there to see it.

Leherim came running through the crowd, her bright eyes lit with happiness, but a small sadness lingered there still—she knew Legolas hadn't come. She was caught up in a large hug by her father, and then she looked around him. "Where is Mirimir? Did she decide to remain with Legolas?"

"I am before you, Leherim," she protested with a faint frown.

Leherim looked at her, blinked, stepped back, and stared a moment longer. "Well!" she declared when she had almost passed into the bounds of rude, "This is a surprise!" She reached up and tucked a bit of Mirimir's dark hair behind her ear. She smiled happily, taking Mirimir's hands. "Come, I'll show you around!"


	35. Morwinyon

LadyJadePerendhil: Her bad dreams served a purpose: getting her to remember what had happened to her. She hasn't had them since she remembered. She is healed, if still a bit tentative around those she doesn't know... and Legolas is coming.

Farflung: You were just a little ahead of me there. Oh well. Mirimir's father will show up very soon (along with the end of this story), but I have no plans to bring the others in. They're happy with Mandos, content to rest at peace. As for summer updating... I'm not sure yet. If I get the internships I'm hoping for, then I will have internet access, but if I don't, I won't. I'll know for sure on Thursday. It looks hopeful, though. I'm very glad--I am so addicted to the internet I just about go batty if I have to wait two and a half months for it.

StarAngel Caelum SunSoar, Mountain Lass, Lalaith, Animir, and agaxris: Thanks for reading/reviewing!

All right, guys, we're getting down to the end, here! Only a few more chapters... which means as long as I can get on school computers long enough, I should be able to finish it before school's out.

_**  
  
Chapter 35**_

The instant Legolas stepped upon the shore he sent out a feeler, brushing two minds. Once that was done, he pulled the boat farther ashore and helped Gimli out, laughing to himself as the dwarf immediately wandered off to find the Lady Galadriel.

As for him, he wanted to see Leherim, and his father, and Mirimir. Only a few years had passed since Mirimir and his father left, but it had seemed nearly an eternity, since for the first time he was able to clearly remember, he had been without the connection he shared with the two she-elves.

_Legolas?_

He closed his eyes in pleasure. _I am on the shore,_ he answered softly, _dear sister._

She laughed gaily, and he could feel her coming forward. He opened his eyes to see her break through the trees, and the next thing he was aware of he was holding her once more. He laughed with her, then sighed softly, lowering his forehead to her shoulder as she did the same.

For the next hours they shared everything that had happened since their link had been broken, laughing together about some things, listening in silent sympathy for others. He stumbled over the sharing of things he had learned from Mirimir of her past, and she shook her head at him.

_She has told me many things herself. What she keeps silent, shall remain so._

Slowly he nodded. _Where is she? And Father? And Elrohir, for that matter._

She laughed and pulled back, leading him into the woods. _They await my return, and yours, eagerly._

She wasn't entirely correct. It seemed Mirimir had been waylaid by someone at some point, which rather surprised him, though he told himself it shouldn't have. After spending a short while with their father, he and Leherim took to walking through some of the paths, speaking for the sake of hearing the words.

"Have you any idea where she is?"

"You're the one linked to her, brother dear."

"Funny, Leherim."

"Orc," she laughed. She smiled up at him for a long moment, her eyes shifted as she thought of something.

"What is it?"

"Mirimir," she answered softly. "She had changed so much since I saw her last, I didn't recognize her."

"Good or bad?" he asked with a frown.

"Good, I would say good." She tilted her head and thought about it. "She has a confidence she hadn't before, a sense of who she is that gives her strength, power."

"So she's an elf?" he teased softly.

Slowly she nodded. "I… I think that was it. She had truly become an elf, embracing her heritage and personal history, along with that of the elves themselves."

He smiled, shaking his head at her. "She was always an elf, little sister."

"Troll," she accused fondly. "You know what I mean."

"Yes. The change had already begun when I removed to Fangorn. Still, you should have recognized her."

"You knew her better than I did, Legolas. Perhaps you always did."

Legolas shrugged, not really interested in pursuing the issue as the stars glittered overhead. He closed his eyes, letting the peace and joy of the undying lands fill him, easing his heart about leaving Arwen to die. He hadn't any choice, but watching her eyes as she gave in, ignoring her pride and the wisdom of her years to ask to be taken along… it had been quite difficult. Especially knowing he would have to tell her father and brothers that the last time he had seen her she had been a sobbing shell of her previous glory.

"Legolas!"

The deep booming voice was decidedly out of place, and it jerked Legolas rudely back to reality. "Gimli?" he asked. A sudden rustling in the leaves indicated the dwarf was blundering ever closer.

Leherim winced as they heard a sudden thud, followed by a few choice expletives, all in the tongue of dwarves. "You brought a dwarf?" she hissed.

"Yes," he agreed. "If you would rather spend the time with your husband—" he got no farther, for she was already heading away. He snorted softly and turned to wait for Gimli to finish thundering his way onto the path. "Yes, Gimli?"

"I found her!"

"Found who?"

"The," Gimli paused to pant for a moment, "the she-elf in your vision."

Legolas bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. "Gimli," he began in a reasonable tone, intending to point out there were a lot of elves with dark hair and pale skin.

"Oh shut up and follow me," Gimli grunted, pausing again. "I asked her to wait. I think she thought I was as crazy as you obviously do, but she's waiting." He waved down the 'path' he had created.

Giving up, Legolas chuckled and followed his short friend. "I suppose you asked her name, as well?"

"Of course," Gimli huffed. "Morwinyon."

Laughing aloud, Legolas shook his head. "Then I was right. She is but a dream."

"What?"

"Morwinyon is the name of a star, Gimli."

"And no elf could ever have the name?" Gimli snapped back, scowling up at him. His distraction resulted in a thin welt across his face as he blustered through a young sapling. "Has it no other meaning?" He growled, pushing the branches away.

"Mmm," Legolas agreed faintly. "Glinting in the dark, or some such," he shrugged. "And I'm Greenleaf from the Greenwood."

"What?"

Legolas rolled his eyes and shook his head. "It is highly unlikely…" he trailed off as they stepped into a small clearing. With a quick glance up at him, Gimli let out a soft chuckle and marched off again, humming under his breath as Legolas remained frozen, utterly transfixed as he soaked up the sight before him.

It was her. The she-elf he had seen… or dreamed… in the garden the night of his return to Greenwood. Her hair was unbound this time, the flowers mostly replaced by silver ribbon which was running through the two small braids which held her hair back from her temple, coming together at the back of her head to form a semi-circlet of black and silver. She looked lost in her own thoughts, her head tilted slightly to the side, her dark hair slowly sliding over her shoulder before it fell nearly to the hand which propped her upright, her other one reaching out, the slender fingers trailing lightly along a silver bloom on the tree she was partially sheltered by. In the true light of the stars she glowed as if she were one of them, the light tangling in her hair and from the tips of her lashes.

Unable to help himself, he stepped forward, afraid to take his eyes from her for fear she would vanish again. She turned and looked at him, her eyes the same silver as the lights tangling in her hair and the folds of her gown. After a moment of watching him, she smiled, and rose, standing before him, her eyes on level with his own.

She reached up and touched his cheek, closing her eyes with a faint smile as the jolt ran through him.

_Mirimir?_

She opened her eyes, tilting her head to the side before she stepped forward, lifting her arms to wrap around his waist as she let her head fall to his shoulder.

With a faint sigh he held her close, one hand buried in her hair, and found he was stuck between being overjoyed to see her, to hold her, and stunned that she was the beautiful elf he now held. Leherim was right, she had grown stronger in her own confidence, in her self-assurance.


	36. Lazy afternoon

Well, I finally managed to put together a chapter for you. I haven't gone over it, because I simply don't have time. Writing this author's note is the longest I've been sitting still all day-- over seventeen hours of running around, working on homework, labs, and studying, along with a presentation that I STILL NEED TO WORK ON! Shoot! I was thinking this was it for the day. Sigh. Ah, well. Less than a week to go... which means this is likely all you guys are going to get until the 17th, since things are going to be so nutsy for me. But then, the final chapter will be up.

Animir: Expect her father next chapter... I think. Should be. It's more how she has changed, than anything, of course.

Angel: Thank you, and you could stop at the last chapter, I suppose, but I thought I'd wrap things up a little bit. I think the next chapter will be the end.

farflung: I have no idea why the west would equal death. It's the UNDYING LAND after all. I always wondered if those non-elves who went were sort of granted immortality or if they just kind of... lasted longer. Yours was sort of my opinion as well, though. Legolas and Leherim weren't connected quite that long. Legolas was probably around ten-twelve, Leherim under ten, above four or five. I don't know if I ever wrote exactly how much the age difference is between them, but it's just a few years... The stars were out? Maybe it's just been so hectic here I've forgotten, but I'm not getting the reference. I will have internet access this summer, and even some free time! (I think). The only problem is my computer is still on the fritz, but it's been hinted that I may get help buying a new one as an early Christmas present (which would be great, I hate having to get up early just to grab a computer to work on my final paper! Not to mention I LIVE on my computer. I feel so lost without mine. Sniff. Okay, I'm addicted. Sigh.). My local library doesn't have internet access (very, very small town) and the nearest city requires both a card there (which I can't get, because I don't live there) and an internet access code (which they won't give you without the card). So... yeah, very good thing I've got a job out of state.

LadyJadePerendhil: I guess you could see it as foresight, maybe a final hint of the trauma of the quest... or you could see it as actually having been her, looking for a moment as she would when as sure of herself as she was of him... before she cut her hair again to annoy Leherim. Yeah, I chose the star for her name. Mirimir itself is a conglomeration of elven meaning lovely and free one... kind of.

Everyone else who reviewed: thank you, I appreciate it, but I've got people with papers due soon breathing down my neck, so I've got to go!

Also, those of you who also read Among the Brambles, there will not be a chapter up along with this one, and likely not until Saturday, if then, and only if all of my professors get back to me/are availible so I can get everything done I need to in the next few days.

Argh, brain overload! I'm out of here.

Enjoy!

**_  
  
Chapter 36_**

Legolas watched in amusement as Mirimir caught Elohir's hand before it could continue on towards her neck. She quirked a dark brow at him, the move seeming almost elegant in comparison to the surprised dismay on Elrohir's face which gave way to false innocence.

"Yes, Mirimir?" he asked softly.

"Pervert," she countered calmly. "You know, married as you are, you really should learn to keep your hands to yourself… I'm not so sure Leherim would appreciate knowing you go around fondling all the elves you meet."

Elrohir turned an interesting shade of red, opening his hand to thrust it at her, showing her the berries he had obviously intended to smear either on her neck or in her hair, or perhaps drop down her dress. "I was just going to—"

Mirimir moved too quickly to be stopped, her hand snapping up, taking his with hers. She smiled sweetly at him as the berry juice ran down his cheeks, dripping from his chin, a small laugh escaping her when one of the berries dropped with a moist squish to his bare foot. "Clean up?" she offered, her eyes sparkling silver as she silently laughed at him.

He glared at her for a moment, before chuckling and getting to his feet. "I guess so," he agreed, leaving the remaining three to the last lingering remnants of the meal.

"Glad to see you haven't lost your touch with him," Legolas teased, before laying back, closing his eyes against the brightness of the sun.

"You would think after so many years his imagination would insist upon something new once in a while… or at least something a bit more… sophisticated?"

He chuckled, opening one eye to look at her. "But then it would become a war between you, would it not?"

She considered that for a moment, then smiled and shrugged a shoulder. "Perhaps."

Leherim shook her head, laughing at something. At their curious looks, she explained, "Elrohir and Elladan shall be… indisposed for the remainder of the day."

"Haldir caught up with them?" Mirimir asked with a delightedly sly smile.

"Apparently," Leherim replied, laughing again. "How they got him into their tricks I still don't understand."

"They're good at that," Legolas murmured softly, feeling warmly content. He knew he was in danger of falling asleep, which wasn't a wise thing when the twins were in the mood for tricks and pranks, but he couldn't rouse himself enough to care. Even if they did do something to him, he would get over it with time.

"But they don't seem to have drawn you in," Mirimir replied, her voice coming from somewhere closer.

"Not in millennia, but they have before. Once I could beat them on the archery field as well as with a blade they tended to steer clear of making me the victim of their more… embarrassing pranks."

"So… They haven't done anything like this to you in—"

His eyes flew open, seeing mischievous eyes laughing at him before the remaining berries were covering his cheeks, dripping back into his hair. He groaned, closing his eyes. With a sigh he got up, scraping the rest of the berries off of his cheeks, raking them from his hair as he began walking towards the lake. He stripped his shirt off, hearing other elves at the far side. Tossing the material aside he waded into the water, ducking down to clean his hair of the juice before he ended up with reddish-blond hair for a few weeks, as he had once as a young lad.

_Legolas?_

He frowned, but chose not to answer.

_Legolas… are you mad?_

He dunked his head once more, scrubbing the last bit of stickiness from behind his ears.

_Legolas… please, say something._

He waited silently.

"Legolas? Legolas, I didn't mean—" She let out a small eep as he spun around, grabbing the hand she had stretched out towards him, tugging her close enough for him to toss her into the lake.

The lazy smile on his face froze when blind panic smacked into his gut. She surfaced once, clearly unsure what to do, her panic coming again, feeling almost like a scream.

With a self-directed curse he dove into the water, reaching for her, nearly losing his own thoughts when the first touch of skin amplified their connection, making him swear again, softly. He pulled her back to the shallower water, setting his feet on the ground before encouraging her to do the same.

Once her feet touched the bottom she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, shaking against him as she clung. He held her just as tightly, trying to reassure her, to convince her she was alright. _I'm sorry, little one. I didn't know._

_I know you didn't,_ she answered after a moment, still holding him tightly. _Were you mad?_

_Not really. But my hair stains too easily, so I had to get clean… I thought it would be a good way to repay your effort._

She laughed brokenly, taking one large, shuddering breath before relaxing in his arms. "I guess I should stick to Elrohir."

Legolas smiled faintly, taking a deep breath, helping himself relax. He started to let go of her, only to find her hair was tangled around his hand as only long wet hair could. He leaned in a bit closer to try and extricate himself without hurting her.

"Legolas?"

He stilled, aware once more of everything he had been trying not to notice for so long—her scent, the way she fit against him, the way her heart raced when he held her like this… the way his own responded. "By the stars, Mirimir."

"What?" she whispered, shivering slightly as a the breeze wrapped around them.

_My name never sounded so good before,_ he replied, closing his eyes to better remember every detail of that moment. Her voice was slightly husky, a little tentative, a little quiet, and he had felt it where their chests were pressed together and where his palm was against the back of her throat.

"Legolas," she breathed, lifting her hand from his shoulder to his skull, finding her way through his hair to cup his head as he slowly lowered his.

No part of him tried to pull back, tried to convince the rest this wasn't right… so he tilted his head slightly, giving her a taste of the slight smile the realization brought.


	37. The end, and the beginning

Hello, everyone. I said I would be back sometime now… and here I am! Or what you'd rather, here's the last chapter of Not A Word (as far as I'm planning. If I get really good ideas in reviews, I may continue a chapter or two… but not much.).

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, but between typing up chapters for the last few hours (I typed up the wrong chapter for Among the Brambles… typed up the one I had _already_ posted) and the manual labor earlier… I'm hungry and my muscles are cramping left and right.

If you have questions/comments for this chapter/the story as a whole that you want answered, let me know in your review, and either leave me an e-mail address (unless you're signed in, then I can find it), or check back. I'll post replies at the bottom of the chapter eventually.

Bye! It's been great—I hope to see you all in the future with another story!

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**_  
  
Chapter 37_**

Leherim couldn't stop smiling. Nor could Gimli or Thranduil, for that matter. Legolas was somewhat exasperated by the lot of them, but he was feeling too good to let it bother him too much. _Almost over, my love,_ he murmured softly.

Mirimir laughed just as softly, leaning back against him. _Hmm. Times like this I wish I was shorter than you._

_Why?_

_Because then you would be the perfect height to be a headrest._

He chuckled and kissed her cheek, tilting his head against hers. _Like this?_ he asked innocently.

_Mm-hmm,_ she agreed, turning her head to catch him for a kiss. _How much longer?_

_I'm not entirely sure. I thought we would be done by now, actually._

Leherim laughed softly and came to their sides. "You two may as well get comfortable, it's going to be a while."

Mirimir looked at Legolas, one dark brow lifted in accusation.

He shrugged. _I didn't ask her._

Mirimir sighed and shifted so she was leaning entirely against him, her head tilted to rest beside his. _Why can't they just send us a note? Or a general greeting from the entire extended family?_

_They would, if I were anyone else,_ he murmured ruefully. _But despite it all, I'm still one of the ruling class. As are you, actually,_

_Only through an unfortunate circumstance._

_Unfortunate circumstance?__ Oh, I like that!_

_Not you,_ she protested, smiling faintly at his pout, _your blasted title._

"Congratulations, Princess," another elf murmured, bowing his head. What seemed like an unending supply of elves that—after so long of seeing various different elves she had never seen before—looked just like him were waiting to take his place, standing in line behind him.

_When can I start retching?_

_Patience, love.__ I think I can see the end of the line._

_Wishful thinking.__ I overheard Elrohir exclaiming the line wraps around the building._

He groaned. _You're kidding._

She smirked and straightened. _Nope_.

He sighed heavily and dropped his head to kiss her shoulder. _Wake me when it's over,_ he groused.

She smiled and nodded her head at another group of elves who lowered their heads to her. _Why do they do this? They know I'm the same as I was yesterday, when they didn't even bother trying to make eye contact with the little common elf._

_But today you have a title. Sucks, doesn't it?_

She sighed. _Well, I have Thranduil, and Leherim, and Elrohir… and Elladan, and even Gimli, so I suppose I shall survive._

_Ahem._

_What?_

_What about me?_

_What about you?_

_You have me._

_Yes I do, don't I?_

_Haramph__._

_Legolas__, I think you've been spending a bit too much time with Gimli._ She laughed softly and patted his cheek as he sent her a mock glare before kissing her jaw. _Yes, I have you. You go without saying. Have for a while, actually._

He smiled and reached up, concerning himself with smoothing every last raven hair into place, more or less ignoring the countless elves who had lined up to offer their congratulations on the royal wedding. _What?_ he asked at once when she went still, his eyes darkening in concern. "Mirimir?" he asked aloud when his mental inquiry failed to receive an answer.

She took a deep breath and looked up at him. Her eyes were reverting to pale grey from the star-lit silver they usually were when she was with him. _He's here._

Legolas stiffened, and watched as his wife's eyes unfocused as a thousand images battled between her ears to be seen. He could feel the pain she was fighting down, and kissed her temple, pulling her to his side. _Shh__, love. He cannot do you any harm now._

_Is it him?_

_What?_

_Is it Madan? You said he was probably my father… Or at least the head of the house I was in._

Legolas waited until she was a little calmer before he looked up. It didn't take him long to spot him. _Madan__ is here, yes. If it is the elf you remember or not—_he was stopped as she sent him an image of Madan, his eyes full of cold hard hatred and insane, unfounded and unreasonable anger. He shuddered. _It is him._ Looking objectively at the elf, he could see why she had said there were several similarities between himself and Madan. They were probably the same height or very close, had blond hair, blue eyes—though Madan's were always a bit darker than Legolas's—and they had the same build, the build of a warrior. Madan had been in the service of the King as a guard for many centuries, long before he had married… and had children.

She took a deep breath and nodded, her chin lifting almost to a defiant angle. _Let him come,_ she murmured softly.

Legolas tilted his head at her, took in the flashing of her eyes—still mostly grey but with hints of silver shining through—the tilt of her head, and smiled, glad she had seen through the things he had in common with her father to see everything that made them different. He kissed her ear and straightened himself to face the coming crowds a bit more properly, keeping one arm around her, his thumb arching over her bare skin. _You've grown up beyond beautiful, my love._

She looked at him, her eyes sparkling truly for a moment, a smile touching her lips. Then she turned back and waited for Him to come. She nodded at several other elves, saying nothing as they commented on what a lovely couple they made—Legolas answered for her, pride and love in his voice as he laughed with them about the stunning contrast between light blond with bright blue and midnight black with star-silver, not venturing a guess what their children would look like, though he always held her a little bit more tightly when such was mentioned.

Finally, He was before them. His eyes were lifeless, dull. He looked up, offered his congratulations to Legolas in a bland tone. Legolas responded with a voice of granite, his arm tightening around her as he tensed farther, though he didn't do what she could tell he wanted to—shove her behind him, shield her from the world… or just Madan, her father. The bane of her early existence.

Madan looked at her, blinked disinterestedly, and began to leave, when he suddenly froze, turning back even as the elves behind him were making their comments to the pair before flowing around him to leave. Mirimir met his gaze steadily, saw him search her face and eyes for the cowering creature he had left locked and chained in a cellar, barely alive, and beyond recognition as an elf.

"Morwinyon?" he breathed, his eyes narrowing as he tried to see her through the elf she had become, perhaps sensing he was correct about who—or rather _what_—she had been.

Looking at him now, she saw a broken elf, one who would probably give up on living before too terribly long. He had lost everything that had mattered to him—wealth, power, prestige. All he had left was what he had never really cared for—her, and she was Legolas's now. She was called daughter by the King with the same love he had for his own children, and she called Thranduil her father willingly, with all the love she had never dared bestow upon the elf watching her.

His confusion turned to certainty. "Morwinyon!" He began to draw himself up, his eyes darkening as he saw the last thing he had a claim on being taken away.

She lifted her hand, stopping anything he might day with that gesture, backed by a glare. "I am Princess Mirimir. I have no family besides that of my husband, and I will hear nothing to the contrary. Understand? Not a word."

He blinked and moved his jaw a few times, looking from her to the hard light in Legolas's glare, back to her, visibly stunned that she spoke at all, much less with the authority of a Princess, backed by a Prince. The darkening light in his eyes, which had always before forewarned her of horrible things about to befall her or her family, faded away. Mutely he bowed his head, his hands—the hands she had seen in countless nightmares for centuries—hanging lime and useless at his sides. Once again a broken shell of the sadistic bastard who had delighted in torturing and tormenting her and her dear siblings, he walked slowly away.

Laying her head against her husband's neck, she smiled faintly and closed her eyes as Legolas wrapped his arms about her waist, kissing her forehead gently, though the raging emotions of fury and possessiveness she could feel were at odds with that tenderness.

She would guess she would never see her 'father' again.

She didn't mind in the least.


End file.
